Much Madness is Divinest Sense
by bluejanes
Summary: No one ever said I was sane, anyway. SI/OC fic.
1. One

**This is inspired by a post I saw on Tumblr by Leopsa. Credit for the title goes to Emily Dickinson.**

Much Madness is divinest Sense -

To a discerning Eye -

Much Sense - the starkest Madness -

'Tis the Majority

In this, as all, prevail -

Assent - and you are sane -

Demur - you're straightway dangerous -

And handled with a Chain –

-Emily Dickinson

* * *

If I have to be honest, YOLO was pretty much my motto in my previous life.

After all, I really thought we only lived once.

I was wrong.

I'd died pretty young—17, but not nearly an adult. Not even close.

It had been pretty stupid. Actually, I have no idea what I was thinking when I decided to rob Bob's convenience store.

Everyone knew that Bob was one of those overly aggressive, rash people. _And_ he owned a gun.

But I tried to rob him anyway—YOLO, right?

And so I ended up on the floor with a bullet wound in my chest, bleeding out and laughing my ass off.

My life had been shit in my first life; as an orphan in a poor neighborhood, I didn't have many opportunities, and to put it lightly, I fell in with the wrong crowd. So having the neighborhood crazy (everyone knew Bob wasn't exactly right in the head) kill me was just fucking hilarious.

I knew my story—my life—would just be brushed away in the town's local newspaper as just another one of those kids who walked on the wrong path and ended up dead.

Just like how I was born as nothing, I died as nothing.

I was nothing, just another one of the billions of people living on the planet, and I welcomed my death with open arms.

Unfortunately, the afterlife I'd been longing for was just not to be.

I opened my eyes into a new life, and it was not fun.

They really should change the saying to "You Only Live Twice".

* * *

The weird thing is that I have no idea how I was born. One moment I was dying on the floor of that goddamn convenience store, and the next, I was inside a floating basket.

A fucking floating basket.

I have no idea how none of the neighbors outside didn't notice the flying basket, but I eventually landed on the doorstep of a random house and the doorbell rang by itself.

Was this the world of _Harry Potter_ or something?

At this point, all I knew was that I was inside a baby's body—the shitty eyesight and tiny body made that pretty obvious—and I was at someone's doorstep.

Whatever happened, I just hoped that I would at least get some food before getting kicked out.

Seriously, who in their right mind would take in a random baby on their doorstep?

The door opened and I squinted to try and get a clearer image of the person standing in front of me. As the face leaned closer, I realized it was a man somewhere in his mid-twenties with nerdy looking glasses.

I still couldn't see very well but from what I could make out, he wasn't too bad looking. Okay, he was pretty handsome. But I didn't really care because I was mostly just praying that he wouldn't freak out and call the police or something.

Going through the orphanage and foster kid system was _not_ something I wanted to do again.

But then again, it must be pretty weird to find a random baby in a basket at your door.

I just wanted some food. Or milk. Whatever could sustain me was fine; I wasn't picky.

The man bent down and picked up a letter that I hadn't noticed inside my basket.

(When had that gotten there? I really wanted to know what it said.)

After a few seconds, he picked up my basket and brought me inside. The interior of his house looked like something out of the movies—he had a freaking chandelier in front of the door.

From what I could see, there were fancy paintings hanging on the wall, with furniture that looked like it dated back to the 1800s. The walls were smooth wood and I was pretty sure one of the rooms we passed was a library worthy of the one from _Beauty and the Beast_.

Hot damn, this guy was filthy rich.

He placed my down on what I assumed to be his bed and sat down heavily on a nearby chair.

We stared at each other. It got boring after a while.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" He murmured, tousling his messy black hair.

Yeah, I don't know what to do with me either.

This whole situation was disconcerting, and I was mostly just trying to ignore the absurdity of it all. I'd never been in this kind of situation before, so I was just going to go with the flow.

Hopefully, things would turn out okay for me.

Though a second life wasn't exactly what I wanted, I didn't want to die again. Dying was painful. And it would be a waste not to try and live this life too—I'd died before I could even reach 18, and I kind of wanted another chance.

Hell, I hadn't even been legal. There were tons of things I hadn't been able to do. (Like drinking.)

I'd pretty much been living a miserable and fucked up life, but if this guy adopted me, I'd definitely be a lot better off this time around.

But seriously, starting over as a baby was going to be terrible.

Eventually, the guy stood up, took my basket, and went to the local grocery store and bought some formula. And a bunch of other supplies, including a guide on how to raise a baby.

(This was not going to turn out well for either of us.)

After settling back in the house, I finally got some nourishment—the milk tasted like crap; what the hell did they put in this stuff?—and finally satisfied, I became more and more exhausted before falling asleep.

* * *

The days were horribly monotonous and the man usually just placed me inside his study with him as he worked. It was a nice study, but not child-friendly.

I hadn't cried yet, but I guess the man knew nothing about babies because he didn't even notice anything was wrong. I wasn't exactly normal, but as the days passed, I found that the man wasn't exactly normal either.

His whole library was filled with physics books; a noticeable theme being quantum physics.

Joy. The dude who was presumably adopting me was obsessed with quantum physics.

I had no idea what quantum physics was, and I wasn't exactly up for learning it. The small glimpse I'd gotten at one of his books had deterred me from that. All I'd seen was a jumble of numbers and formulas and letters; and math definitely wasn't my strong point.

But he was always engrossed in his work and often forgot to feed me and change my diapers, so I settled on some kind of cat-like screech whenever I felt the need to use the restroom (more like shitting in my pants) or eat.

We developed a system where a long screech meant I was hungry and two short screeches meant I had to use the bathroom. Three screeches meant something miscellaneous.

I wasn't a very fussy baby—I only needed the essentials, and I spent most of my time sleeping.

When I wasn't sleeping, I just lay in the crib he'd bought for me and stared at the stupid plastic toys dangling above me and the padded bars of the crib.

(It was like a jail.)

I have no idea how many days passed like this, but I was already bored out of my mind and my body was too weak to move; my mouth unable to form words.

Of course, I was working on that, but there weren't any leaps of progress.

Since my crib was in the man's study, I was forced to watch him work every single day.

And he didn't do anything but work all day. Sometimes, he'd take a break for a meal or a nap, but he mostly just sat and worked.

With nothing to do, I was forced to contemplate my situation.

Considering the floating basket and magic doorbell, I was in some kind of weird world. Was it even real? I mean, what if this was actually the afterlife? Or some kind of weird dream; maybe I was in a coma in the real world.

If this was the afterlife, I wanted nothing to do with it. All this boredom was driving me up the walls and was probably my personal hell for all the things I'd done when I was alive.

I was officially freaked out. I had no mental or physical stimulation, and I was in some kind of fake world.

My crib was basically one of those white rooms that they threw people in to torture them.

And to make it worse, I couldn't even talk or crawl, let alone walk.

Throwing all of my energy into trying to walk and talk was tiring and I wasn't really a persevering kind of person, so I usually ended up taking a long break between every try.

My frustration and boredom kept building up inside of me until I felt like I wanted to explode.

I couldn't take it anymore. This was crazy. Everything was crazy. What was I even doing here? If this was hell, it was a damn good one, because I felt like ripping my nonexistent hair out.

Flailing my stubby and annoying baby arms, I started to scream, letting loose every doubt, every fear that had developed since I had landed into this insanity.

Startled, the man turned around to look at me. I'd never cried or screamed before, and his face turned paper white as he started to freak out like me.

Both of us were panicking and nothing was getting solved. I wailed loudly, sobbing at the top of my lungs while kicking out frantically.

I needed to get the fuck out of here.

The man paced on the floor, wringing his hands ineffectively. "Shit, what do I do?"

He stopped in front of my crib and gingerly picked me up, trying to avoid my violently moving limbs. I nailed him in the face and he grimaced as a I smirked inwardly.

 _That's what you get, asshole. Try leaving me alone for a few weeks again._

Placing me on his shoulder, he began to murmur some words in a comforting and gentle tone as he swayed from side to side.

The movement was oddly soothing and I eventually quieted down as I felt my hysterics fall to a manageable level. I was stuck in some crazy ass world that I couldn't understand, but really, there was nothing I could do right now. I'd have to make the best of it.

Even if it was all fake, I'd have to deal with it and live on. On the off chance that it was real, I would have to deal with this world anyway, so no matter what, I was stuck here.

As I sniffled softly and listened to what the man was actually saying, I realized that he was reciting some kind of mathematical formula.

Yup, this world was insane.

"It's all okay now." He told me, smiling sweetly. "See, there's nothing to cry about. I've got you."

Gross. This was like a cheesy single parent raises kid film and it was really, really gross. It felt pretty fake—this guy hardly knew me and I hardly knew him. Why in the world would I trust him?

I didn't respond and let him rock me, determined not to respond to anything he said at all. Babbling was for losers, anyway.

* * *

It was a while after my freak out that I noticed the feeling of strangeness that was constantly bubbling up in me.

I'd never noticed it before, but for some reason, I was able to feel _something_ —

Something indescribably ethereal, lingering on the edges of my soul, like an underground spring of water waiting to be tapped.

And with this strange feeling came strange happenings.

Now, whenever I slept, I dreamed. These dreams weren't those vaguely familiar and fuzzy ones; they were unbelievably vivid and otherworldly.

Colors, shapes, images I'd never seen before melded into one and separated in my mind. Things I could have never imagined came to life and I was absolutely stunned.

My dreams were like another world—a crazy world within a crazy world—and I was more lost than ever.

(Inception had nothing on this.)

I could actually feel, smell, or taste the things in my dreams. It was like lucid dreaming, but a hundred times better.

And it wasn't long until I discovered that I could create things in my dreamscape.

I was missing my old neighborhood, and I longed for the familiar safety of the place I'd grown up in.

The moment I began to wish for it, it started to appear.

Buildings, dirty sidewalks, streets littered with junk and graffiti; they were all forming around me. I watched the simple brown building of the orphanage swirl into existence and it hurt. It hurt to see what I had lost, even though I had never loved it much anyway.

Now that I was gone, everything that I once had became something to long for; a sweet memory in the midst of the madness my life had become. (Even though they weren't very good memories.)

I leaned forward and trailed a finger down the side of the ugly yellow plastic slide of the local playground I'd always gone to as a kid.

It was as rundown as I remembered it to be.

As I neared the monkey bars, I noted with surprise that the bars were colored a faded grey, and they looked fuzzy, like they were trying not to flicker out of existence.

I couldn't remember what the playground actually looked like except for the slide; and with a shock, I realized that my memories of my past life had faded.

The mental image I'd had of it was reflected in the playground I conjured and on closer inspection of the small neighborhood I'd created, I realized that there weren't many fine details.

I couldn't create what I couldn't see.

Frowning, I created a tree to test it out. From a distance, it looked fine and perfectly normal, as I walked right in front of it, I realized that it had none of the ridges that the bark usually had. A leaf fluttered onto my head, and I retrieved it only to see that there were no veins. The leaf was just a leaf-shaped piece of green. The texture was like paper instead of the waxy cover leaves usually had in nature.

I groaned and sullenly kicked at the roots of the tree. It toppled over.

"Fuck." I snapped, plopping on the ground and sighing.

I couldn't even create something real. How pathetic.

I didn't care that this was just a dream—I was going to make a real tree, and nothing was going to stop me.

Thankfully, my body in my dreams was the body I'd had in my past life, so I was able to stand and move as I liked. I spent the rest of my dream trying to make a tree and failing miserably every time.

Every time I tried to conjure a tree, I could never get the image in my head just right. It was way too hard to imagine every little detail of the tree, and I ended up making a forest of deformed trees. It was really, really creepy looking.

From then on, I started to notice the things around me with a sharper eye; drinking in all the tiny details and trying to form the image in my head.

I had nothing else to do with my time anyway.

Creating things in my dreams was actually kind of fun, and it gave me something to do—and it was a challenge, so I wasn't going to back down until I made that goddamn tree.

(It was a lot more fun than trying to walk and talk anyway. Why push my infant body to do things that are impossible at its current developmental stage?)

I spent so much time in my dreams that they started to meld into "real" life. Or the world I lived in when I was awake.

The only thing that allowed me to have a distinction from my dreams and my conscious life was the fact that the normality of the place I lived in. My dreams were way too crazy to be real.

Thinking of my past life as my "real' life was getting too complicated (and frankly, so complex that I was starting to have identity issues) so I started referring to the world I lived in now as the "real" world.

And the real world that I lived in was becoming dream-like way too quickly. In fact, it shouldn't have been happening at all.

But every time I woke up, I began to see things from my dreams.

At first, I thought it was just my overactive imagination. But the randomly placed baseballs began to turn into pink elephants, and the pink elephants turned into crackling fires.

I could fucking feel the heat, and I wasn't going to touch it.

I'd only been thinking about how I'd like to go camping one day, and a fire appeared on the floor next to me.

Needless to say, I was terrified.

 _Am I still dreaming? That can't be possible—I clearly remember waking up. What the hell is going on?_

There was a fire on the floor and things were not okay.

I tried to stay as quiet as possible so the man wouldn't notice and focused on putting it out.

I failed miserably and ended up conjuring a water bucket next to the fire instead.

That was useless—my arms were way too short to reach and the only thing I could do was stand.

At that moment, the man chose to turn around.

 _Why now, of all times?_ I groaned with despair and prayed for the best.

He let out a yelp and jumped up.

"What the fuck?"

He gaped stupidly for a few seconds and then grabbed the bucket next to the fire and put it out.

"What—" Pinching the bridge of his nose, his face contorted through a myriad of emotions before settling on confusion.

I peered at him through the bars of my crib and he turned to look at me.

"It was you, wasn't it?"

Wow, okay, the baby is obviously the guilty party here.

But he had a knowing glint in his eyes that screamed "I have a secret that you don't know".

He set down the bucket with a breath of amusement and picked me up from my crib.

"Let's go get something to eat, shall we?"

I had no idea why he thought a baby would be able to understand him, but I liked that he spoke to me somewhat like an adult.

(I did not need some people cooing random words to me.)

Shrugging, I settled into his arms and accepted his offer. I was always up for food.

It was when I was going through my baby mash that I realized that the fire hadn't left any scorch marks.

* * *

 **A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!**

 **Well, I started another SI/OC fic. (Even though I have other stories in progress, whoops.) But that Tumblr post is seriously amazing.**

 **I won't reveal the godly parent yet, but I think it's pretty obvious?**

 **(Also as a side note: the chapters for this story will be shorter than my other stories—it's kind of styled as a semi-flash fic but not really. Having shorter chapters helps me update faster too, so I'm trying out the whole 3k-4k average word count per chapter.)**

 **I'm not good at writing first person so if the chapters are a little bland, sorry. I'm working on it.**

 **Anyway, thank you for reading and feel free to leave whatever comments/constructive criticism you want!**


	2. Two

I was seriously hoping that this was the world of _Harry Potter_ because things would make a lot more sense if it were.

Also, being a witch? Awesome.

Nothing was very clear right now—I had no idea what the year was, where I was, and what was going on. Being a baby didn't exactly give me many means to find answers to my questions.

But I was making the most of it—I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but by now, I was able to crawl and speak a few words to form a kind of coherent sentence. I was determined to get out of the pathetic crawling stage and into the stumbling and falling all the time while trying to walk stage.

The man who was taking care of me had been ecstatic when I first spoke in front of him. It'd been seriously awkward though, because I'd accidentally slammed my head on the corner of the crib while trying to climb out unnoticed.

(I was seriously bored, okay?)

So I'd yelped "Fuck" because when you're a baby and your skull is as hard as playdoh, everything hurts.

Of course, the man had been surprised by my first word, but he'd tried to ignore it in favor of celebrating me actually talking.

Apparently I'd barely made any sounds (besides crying once) until that moment.

(After that, though, I noticed that he stopped cursing in front of me so much.)

* * *

And the days passed on, dragging along like tar sliding over pavement. The only stimulation I got was from my dreams and the random things that would pop up when I was awake—which was to say, I had zero interaction with other humans.

No wonder the man was so weird—the whole time I'd been here, the only people he'd actually talked to were the cashiers at the local supermarket and when he had to phone restaurants for take-out.

He was one of those nerdy introverts that didn't really know how to deal with social situations.

He had an excuse though—there were more than a few awards shoved in the corner of his office, and from what I could tell, he was some kind of certified genius.

So when I found that he actually had a friend, I was surprised, to say the least.

A blond man came over one day; dressed in expensive looking clothes (though I think they were meant to look casual) and promptly began to scold the man.

He stepped inside with the thrumming grace of a stalking lion; his shoes thumping sharply against the hardwood floor.

"Hal!" He stepped into the man's office without even knocking, "What the hell are you doing? You haven't been to the school in six months— _six months_ —and—oh my god, is that a baby?"

The blond man stopped short at the sight of me lying innocently in my crib. I have him a disarming smile. It was very gummy—my teeth had barely started coming in.

His eyes flashed with something like anguish—though I couldn't really tell, it looked deeper than that—and it disappeared as quickly as it came.

Sighing heavily and rubbing his temples, the blond man looked for a chair to sit down in, and finding none, just closed his eyes with irritation.

"I'm not even going to ask." He snapped.

The man was watching him calmly, looking unruffled through all the chaos.

"Hello, Marmy. You're looking well."

The blond man snapped, "For the last time, stop calling me that! It's Marmion." His cheeks were flushed with either anger or embarrassment; I couldn't tell.

"Of course, Marmy." The man—who I presumed was called Hal from what the blond man said—was totally smirking (but it didn't show on his face).

"Whatever." Marmy growled, looking exasperated. "Just please explain why you have a baby with you. Is this why you've been skipping out? Seriously, you'll be fired at this rate."

"Calm down, you know they won't fire me." I could probably add "lol" to the end of that sentence and it'd still sound the same.

"Just tell me why you have a baby. Oh my god, don't tell me you stole it. Shit, did you just take it from an orphanage? Is anyone missing their baby? Oh my g—I knew it—I _knew_ you would accidentally knock a girl up; I knew it. Where is she? What happened? How—"

Excuse you, _Marmy_ , I'm not an "it", thank you very much.

Hal cut him off. "Relax, Marmy, none of that happened. Although I suppose you were right about the girl getting knocked up part."

"Stop calling me that! And are you serious? How—what—oh god, I don't even know anymore. What's going on?" Marmy had started screaming, and I'm pretty sure he'd just said "oh my god" more than a few times in the past two minutes.

Hal had gone back to his work in the midst of Marmy's freak out, and looked up with Marmy finally finished his rant.

"Everything is fine." He soothed, "I met a girl, we had sex, and we produced a child. That's all. The mother had to leave because of personal reasons. I've been raising the child so I haven't been able to come to work. Didn't the school get my leave of absence?"

Ha. "Raising the child" my tiny baby ass. I've been pretty much raising myself.

The bad and good news is, I'm his biological child. It explains why he's been raising me, and I'm going grow up rich. Fuck yes. The down side is that Hal is… not the greatest parent. And I have a _dad_. I've never had a dad before, and I'm not starting now.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. Just—oh my god." Marmy was speechless as he gaped at Hal's matter-of-fact explanation.

There was a long silence before Marmy found his ability to speak.

He stalked towards Hal's desk, crushing the elaborate Oriental rug beneath his feet and stood in front of Hal with his arms crossed. "Let me get this straight. You produced a love child with an unknown woman—"

"—Well, I wouldn't exactly use the phrase love child—"

"—and stopped coming to work for six months to care for your child. Without asking for help." Marmy paused and glanced at the messy stack of books and paper on Hal's desk. "And working on a new article for publication in the process? Christ, did your kid even get any care?"

He glanced at me and I made sure to shake my head vehemently.

"Oh my god your child is a genius too." Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "I should've known."

Hal smiled rather mysteriously and proudly. "I know. She's been able to speak full sentences for a whole month now."

I tried not to roll my eyes like Marmy.

"Really?" Marmy peered at me with an intrigued expression, "That's impressive." He turned to Hal. "What's her name, anyway?"

"Name?" Hal echoed, looking confused. "Oh! Her name. That's a good question. I haven't come up with one yet."

I twitched. This asshole hadn't even bothered to give me a name yet? Sadly, I hadn't even noticed. I'd been too busy trying to figure out that wreckage that was my life.

Marmy looked even more horrified than me. "What? You haven't even given her a name yet? What is _wrong_ with you? Never mind, don't even answer that. Just give her a name."

He looked towards the ceiling as if to say, why is this even my life?

Same, Marmy, same.

Hal hummed thoughtfully. "I've always liked Schrödinger." He mused, ignoring Marmy's groan.

"That's not even a female's name, Hal! You can't just name your kid after the things you like."

"Schrödinger's equation is very important, I'll have you know." Hal tilted his head slightly, "I think I'll just name her Schrödinger Chandra Rogers. That should be fine, don't you think?"

Judging by the expression on Marmy's face, he didn't think it was fine. I definitely didn't think it was fine, either.

Schrödinger Chandra Rogers? Yeah, might as well throw me onto the bottom of the social pyramid.

I wasn't going to accept this weird-ass name. Nope, no way in hell. I was keeping my name from my past life, and that was that. Vin was a perfectly fine name, and there was no way I was going to take a name from some crazy physics guy.

"Hal, I don't think that's the best name." Marmy tried to ease him out of his choice.

Hal shook his head resolutely. "It's fine; it's a great name. And I know she loves it; right Schrödinger?" He looked at me with a smile.

I scrunched up my face. "No."

Marmy and Hal stared at me.

"See? Even the kid doesn't like it." Raising an eyebrow triumphantly, Marmy stepped over to my crib and patted me on the head.

Annoyed at being treated like a child, I snapped at his hand and he pulled it back, alarmed.

"I think Schrödinger is just grumpy." Hal said, amused.

I huffed with irritation and retreated into the farthest corner of my crib. My tolerance level for Hal was officially at its limit, and I wasn't going to deal with this any further.

Covering my ears, I tuned out the rest of the conversation (which mostly was just Marmy scolding Hal and Hal being an airhead) and fell asleep, excited to enter my dreams.

* * *

With the passing of these past six months, I'd gotten a lot better at creating images. At the moment, I was able to create a whole bunch of real-looking trees. I was working on a forest, but I hadn't quite gotten down the animals or insects yet.

Honestly, I'd pretty much forgotten what most animals and insects looked like—I hadn't seen anyone but Hal and the bars of my cribs for these past few months.

At least the ant I was trying to make didn't look like the ugly blob that was supposed to be a squirrel.

(The squirrel was just pretty much a brown furry blob with four legs and a thing that looked vaguely like a head. Needless to say, it was a monstrosity.)

After the incident with my name, Marmy started coming around more often. And thank the stars for that—he actually took me out and gave me some interaction with the outside world.

For that, he was my new favorite person. (Not that I'd liked Hal very much, anyway.)

"Hal, I'm taking your kid to the park!" He shouted in the direction of Hal's office, refusing to call me Schrödinger.

Hal didn't reply so Marmy took that as assent and picked me up in his arms, smiling affectionately at me.

"You're a cute one, aren't you?" He cooed at me. "And look, you have your father's hair!"

I had no idea what I looked like in this world but looking like Hal wouldn't be too bad—he wasn't too bad-looking, which was a definite advantage for me.

I tugged on my tufts of hair, trying to get Marmy to elaborate. Tugging on his hair sharply, I tried to use some kind of primitive form of communication before remembering that I could speak.

Boy, I'd spent way too long with Hal.

"My hair. What do I look like?" I demanded, grasping his shirt tightly as he carried me to the local park.

Looking surprised, he shot me a curious look before shaking his head exasperatedly (and fondly). "You're just like your father."

Ew, okay, that was impossible. Just because Hal was my father in this world didn't mean he passed on his personality to me. Right? I mean, I pretty much maintained my personality from my previous life, and there was no way I wanted to be like that weird asshole.

Irritated, I snarled at him and tried to whack his face, but I was in an awkward position and ended up grazing the side of his cheek instead.

He rolled his eyes, barely affected by the tiny blow. Damn my weak baby fists.

Hefting me higher in his arms, he glared at me sternly. "No hitting, okay? And you have Hal's black hair and what I assume to be your mother's green eyes."

Though Marmy was still treating me like a child, at least he assumed that I was able to understand complex words and didn't dumb down his words to an unbearable fragment of a sentence.

(Marmy and Hal were so obvious inexperienced in dealing with children it was hilarious.)

"Okay." I didn't apologize and he didn't make me either.

The park came into view as we turned the corner and I reveled in the scent of fresh air mingled with fresh grass on a soft breeze. It was amazing. I hadn't felt the sunlight in so long that I craned my neck towards the sun, drinking in its warmth and subconsciously leaned against Marmy's head.

Everything was _glorious_. I was a prisoner starved for the outside world after being locked up for ages. Fuck it, I was Rapunzel coming out of her goddamn tower after being kept there for her whole life.

Breaking the comfortable silence, I turned to face Marmy. "Can you set me down on that bench?" I pointed to an old wooden bench shaded by a great oak tree that faced the main section of the park.

Shrugging, Marmy set me down on the bench before sitting next to me.

"You're strange, just like your father."

I bared my teeth in what I hoped was an intimidating and angry gesture. (It was really more of just my gums and baby teeth barely starting to come in, though.)

He laughed gently and stroked my hair. For some reason, it felt really nice—like I had someone that cared about me. A tiny tug of warmth filled my chest and I let it sit there as I drank in the sights, sounds, and smells.

The neighborhood kids were all hanging around the playground and kicking around rubber balls. It looked childish and not very appealing. One kid got a ball kicked straight into his face and I couldn't help but wince with sympathy.

Yeah, kids were pretty vicious.

After a while, Marmy took me back to Hal's house. We didn't really talk, but I had a feeling that we'd come to some sort of unspoken agreement.

He ended up staying for dinner—which was also a blessing, because Hal fed me his leftover mashed up takeout all the time and it was seriously disgusting—and took pity on us by making us dinner.

It was the best food I'd had in my entire second life. Possibly also including my first.

Before left, he made sure to enough food to last Hal and me for a whole week and I thanked whatever deity had sent him here. This man was possibly a food god.

"Bye…" Marmy trailed off, unsure of what to call me.

"Vin." I said, using my name from my first life. "I'm Vin."

Marmy smiled. "Bye, Vin."

Gratified, I waved at him as he walked out the door. Hal didn't really say anything except for look up once from his distracted scribbling.

The door swung shut and I heard the click of the lock as Marmy locked the door for us.

I wasn't even surprised that he had a key to Hal's house.

That night, I had the most beautiful dreams I'd ever had.

* * *

 **A/N: So this will be the average length of all the chapters—it makes everything a lot easier to write and since I already have a lot of the next few chapters planned out, shorter chapters make the plot flow easier for me.**

 **This will probably be one of the happiest chapters—things will go really downhill from here on.**

 **Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed this story! And thank you to Aankon27 for reviewing!**

 **As usual, feel free to leave any comments and thank you for reading!**


	3. ThrEe

_**Warning: There is a scene with a nightmare that gets kind of graphic. If you don't like horror, skip that part.**_

* * *

By the time I turned three—or at least, I assumed I was three—I was living a life that consisted of reading the books in Hal's library, messing around with my dreams, and going to the park.

That was it. Every day was uncomfortably repetitive like an itchy sweater that kept chafing at my skin but I'd gotten used to such a dull lifestyle that nothing really bothered me anymore. I just lived in a constant state of confusion and irritation.

Hal left me to my own devices most of the time, too absorbed by his work to really care about what I was doing.

In fact, he was so obsessed with his studies that he didn't even celebrate any of the holidays except when Marmy came over and forced him to. Hell, none of us had even celebrated our birthdays—the closest I'd gotten to one was a bunch of presents from Marmy and the gift of his horrified face when he found out that Hal didn't even know when my birthday was.

I later learned that Hal was a brilliant professor at a prestigious college who'd won a shit-ton of awards and had groundbreaking work in the field of quantum physics. He'd written like six books already.

So with Hal's lack of attention to anything but his work, I was given free reign over my whole life. Thankfully, I'd developed the skills to move however I wanted, so the only thing holding me back was my shortness.

With my increased exposure to the outside world, my dreams became more and more vivid, the lines and details becoming clearer than crystal, burning themselves into my mind.

I took a house key from Hal and always walked myself to the park—it was soothing and I needed it to practice the places I was creating in my dreams.

I'd successfully created a rainforest the other day—complete with the smells, sights, sounds; even the humidity was tangible. Thank god for the internet.

Without a computer, I couldn't create different worlds in my mind without seeing something else first, and a computer provided me the gateway to the floods of images from around the world that I needed.

The only bad thing was that Hal didn't like computers and had installed some kind of child-friendly software that didn't let me watch any t.v. shows or online movies. Not even fanfiction.

So yeah. No more television, movies, anime, or dramas. Just Hal and his boring library.

My dreams and the park were the only things I had to occupy my time, and I was slowly becoming obsessed with the things I could do in my dreams because of its influence in my daily life.

I'd decorated my bed with curtains from the 19th century, a sparkling waterfall going down the side, sprinkles of brightly colored flowers, and glittering stars on a stretching canopy above me.

(I had my own bedroom now, and I was going to make the most of it.)

For some reason, whenever I found something I liked, I just had to imagine it and it would appear. Of course, I could never conjure something that I hadn't seen before, or the image would come out blurry with no details like it had in my dreams.

But once I found the images online, I could transport them to my bed, or wherever I wanted. I'd even conjured a flying marshmallow above Hal's head once, but he hadn't noticed.

The strangest thing, though, was that everything I created was almost real. I could hear the rush of the waterfall next to me and feel the cold sprinkle of tiny droplets on my face; but the waterfall never affected the real world. It didn't make anything wet, but when I touched it, my hand was soaked with water.

No matter what, I couldn't understand it. So ignored that part and continued to conjure up whatever I wanted, making my life a lot more exciting than it was.

I grabbed the keys from a small drawer next to me and pulled on the clothes Hal had gotten for me from a random store (he had really bad taste) before walking out the front door, not bothering to tell Hal where I was going. He wouldn't notice, anyway.

The sidewalk was empty and quiet, and as a really short three year old, I was really venerable and starting to feel scared. It was still the afternoon, but Hal lived in a really isolated neighborhood where none of the neighbors ever talked to each other or went out of their houses.

Crouching in front of Hal's house, I closed my eyes and willed up a brown Corgi, imagining every feature, every line of fur in my head. It appeared next to me and immediately began to bark. I grinned triumphantly and patted its head.

"I think I'll call you Brownie." I set off for the park with Brownie following behind me.

As I sat down at my usual bench in the secluded corner of the park, I noticed a girl I'd never seen before sitting next to me. Brownie was curled up on my other side.

I was going to ignore her but she turned to me and caught me staring. It was really awkward.

"Uh, hi." I said, shifting uncomfortably.

For a brief, fleeting moment, her face morphed into a shocked, almost afraid expression before she smoothed it down with polite curiosity. She looked to be around fifteen, with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes.

"Hello. I'm Varya, what's your name?" Her smile was disarming; she seemed to have a contradicting aura around her.

There was a sense of heaviness and gloom around her, yet she smiled brightly with a friendly face that lit up like the sun.

At least she had an uncommon name like me.

"I'm Vin." I offered, watching the way she held herself. There was something about her that was off, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

"That's a Latin name, isn't it?" She suddenly grinned widely, like a firework's transience over a night sky.

"I guess?" I'd never thought about it before, but for some reason, I knew that it was Latin. It was the sort of knowing that you felt deep in your soul; something that had been there for forever but was buried so deep that you only knew that it was there.

Something clicked in my head. "It means 'conquering'." I blurted, unsure where that had even come from.

Valya laughed. "I know. I knew it from the moment you said it."

Okay, that was kinda weird. "Do you know Latin?"

A strange, almost bitter look ghosted over her face. "You could say that."

It was probably a sore subject, so I tried to divert the conversation to something else. "I've never seen you around before. Did you just move here?"

"Something like that." She answered vaguely, and very frustratingly. Everything she'd been saying was so ambiguous that I still had no idea who she was.

"Uh, okay…" I honestly didn't know what to say anymore. It was probably strange for her too, to be talking with a three year old. She didn't seem too surprised by my non-three year old actions though.

Why did I always manage to get involved with the weirdest people?

But I wasn't exactly a normal three year old either, so it wasn't surprising that my life was a hotbed of weirdness.

"Is that your dog?" asked Valya, looking at Brownie.

"Yeah, his name's Brownie." I picked up Brownie and placed him on Valya's lap.

She tentatively hovered a hand above his back.

"You can pet him, you know." I said, amused.

She flashed me an embarrassed and grateful smile. Lowering her hand slowly, she gently sifted her fingers through his fur.

"His fur's so soft." She breathed, looking nearly reverent. "I haven't touched a dog in so long."

That was sad. I pitied those who didn't have dogs—they were simply adorable and beautiful.

"Why not?"

Valya looked up with an expression of surprise, like she'd almost forgotten I was there. "My mom's allergic." She scratched the back of her head.

"Uh, is it okay for you to pet Brownie? You just have to wash your hands, right?"

Blinking awkwardly, Valya nodded. "Yeah, it's fine." She continued to pet Brownie and hugged him to her chest, stroking his head.

A little girl around me age began to approach us with her mom right behind her and Valya quietly set Brownie on the empty space beside her.

"Ooooh," cooed the little girl, "can I pet your dog?"

Without waiting for a reply, she completely (and rudely) ignored Valya and reached for Brownie.

I sat there silently and the little girl's mom flashed me an apologetic look.

As Brownie played with the little girl and her mom, I began to get bored so I decided to talk to Valya.

"Are you coming back to the park?"

For a while Valya didn't answer.

"Yeah." She said softly, glancing at Brownie and then at me.

Wow, she must really like dogs.

"So how old are you?" asked Valya.

"I'm three. I think."

She laughed. "You think?"

"I don't have a birthday." I said bluntly.

"Oh." Instantly, she sobered, but she didn't give me any looks of pity. Instead, she had a look of understanding, like she'd gone through something similar before.

She probably had a shitty home life—she was sitting in a park all alone, for god's sake.

"I'm sorry." She leaned forward to touch my arm—probably to comfort me—but before she could touch me, she recoiled with a flinch.

The strangest feeling came over me then, like a chilling brush of air had just swept through the area.

"I should go." She murmured. Abruptly, she got up and left.

Okay, that was seriously rude and awkward. It wasn't like I had a contagious disease or something, geez.

When I turned my attention back to the little girl and her mom, they were giving me strange looks.

I was pretty sure the mom was judging me. The little girl began to approach me but her mom pulled her back and frowned.

"Let's go, Amelia." The two of them left, the mom resolutely not looking at me but the little girl—Amelia—kept looking over her shoulder back at me.

Wow, what was up with everyone and rudeness?

I gathered Brownie in my arms and decided to change places. Obviously, this bench wasn't the greatest place for a relaxing day.

Settling under the cool shade of a thick tree, I dug my fingers into the cool soil and closed my eyes. Brownie snuggled into my lap and I leaned against the tree's trunk, letting the familiarity of the park wash over me.

Before I knew it, I accidentally fell asleep and was submerged into my dreams.

I wasn't welcomed into a brilliant and captivating landscape as usual—it was swirling with violence, yet hollow and barren.

It was a vast whiteness that surrounded me, but there were hints of the scent of blood and rotting flesh lingering in the air, and the air turned a thick, choking black.

All of a sudden, I couldn't breathe because I was drowning in the smoky darkness, drowning in the inescapable brilliance of white, drowning in the angry sounds of battle.

A breath exhaled heavily right behind me; hot and rank air blowing into my face.

There was something behind me.

 _Oh my god there was something behind me._

I felt the cold sting of metal against my neck, and before I could move or say anything, the blade sliced through my neck in one swift move and my head went flying off into the darkness.

I was dead. I was just fucking killed.

But I opened my eyes—even though I was dead—and looked down, noticing that my body was missing.

What.

What the fuck?

I opened my mouth to let out a scream, but there was no air. I choked on nothing, and nothing came out of my mouth.

I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. I just lay there and watched hazy images through the misting darkness shattered by the blinding white; watched blood splatter, bodies go flying, and listened to the sound of screams touched by agony and death.

Something went flying out of the carnage and landed next to me. I shifted my gaze and realized that it was my body.

My body from my first life; looking like it'd been sent to the butcher's.

Gagging, I shifted my eyes to the other side, only to see myself. Again.

But it was the Vin from my second life; the three year old Vin.

She looked at me with gaunt, empty green eyes. Eyes that echoed death and horror and then nothingness.

Reaching over with a tiny baby hand, she grasped my neck in a grip stronger than in should have been. And squeezed.

But I couldn't choke because I was already choking.

So I lay there.

And watched.

Watched myself kill me. And watched the Vin from my first life melt out of the three year old Vin's body so that the little girl sitting in front of me had two heads—one of a child's and one of a teenager's.

They both smiled; a gentle, eerie thing that made me feel like me chest was being carved out with long, spindly fingers and a steak knife.

I screamed.

The midday sun burned my eyes as they flew open and I clutched my chest, gasping for breath. Sucking air into my lungs, I breathed like a drowned man thrown onto land.

What the fuck just happened? This had never happened before. My dreams had always, always been pleasant. I'd never had a nightmare before.

Scared out of my wits, I headed back for Hal's house, vowing to never step foot in that park again.

The images, so fresh and vivid in my mind, followed me on my way back.

Brownie trotted next to me, nudging me affectionately in a display of comfort.

But as we walked back, I kept having the strangest feeling that someone or something was following me.

I glanced back multiple times, seeing nothing, but whenever I turned towards the front, I could _feel_ something watching me.

It was there, I swear. There was something there.

A dark shadow shifted in the corner of my eye and I turned my head so fast my neck ached.

There was nothing there.

Shivering, I began to run back, holding my arms near my chest and I ran right up to Hal's house, fumbling with the key in my pocket and jamming it in the door.

I was about to open the door when I felt a skeletal hand's fingers slowly crawl onto my shoulder and I froze. _There was something behind me._

I didn't dare turn around, but _there was something behind me._

OhshitIwasgonnadieohmygodIwasgonnadiesomeonehelpmeshitthere'ssomethingbehindme—

There was something at my back, I could feel its chilly breath on my neck, its presence covering my back; I could _hear_ it breathing, for fuck's sake.

I was not going to die here.

Breaking myself out of my terrified state, I threw open the door with a single thrust and ran in as fast as I could before slamming the door shut behind me.

I lay against the door, panting harshly, and slunk to the ground in an exhausted heap.

"Schrödinger? What's wrong?" Hal called, coming out from his office.

He frowned slightly when he saw my trembling, hunched up form.

Placing a hand on my shoulder gently, he crouched down to my level. "Are you okay?"

His voice and hand were tender, filling me with an aching relief. I was so scared I didn't even bother shaking his hand off.

"Yeah." I mumbled, my voice muffled by my arms.

He didn't say anything, but sat there on the floor next to me until I was feeling calm enough to move.

When I finally tucked myself into bed and went to sleep, I swear, there were a pair of hollow, crimson eyes looking straight at me as I fell asleep.

* * *

 **A/N: I know that adding horror into this doesn't make sense right now, but I promise, it will all make sense later when her godly parent is revealed. (I know that pretty much nothing makes sense right now but it will!) It also plays into the story and the ideas I'm hoping to explore. I kind of hope this chapter was scary because I'm pretty much exploring Vin's psyche and I want people to understand what she's going through. (Though I don't know how well that's going.)**

 **Again, thanks to all the people who favorited and followed! Feel free to leave any comments and thanks for reading.**


	4. FoUr

Wherever I looked, there was a shadow lingering there.

I became so frightened that I made my bed into a fort and locked myself up in there all day, only going out for the necessaries and food.

Hal knew something was up, but he didn't comment on it and left me alone to do whatever I wanted as always. Honestly, if I didn't know he was my biological dad, I would have never guessed it.

Marmy came around a lot less now—Hal said he was working on a new book—so I was basically holed up in my bed/fort all day.

But even in there, I didn't feel safe.

I knew, just _knew_ that there was something out there waiting for me. I knew it, I could feel it.

Everywhere I went, it lingered in the corners, and sometimes, I'd catch a glimpse of those dead, crimson eyes, or its long and thin black fingers trailing after each wall.

Brownie was my own companion, but he wasn't even real. God, I was so pathetic. I had nothing but my own illusions for comfort.

I was so fucking _scared._ So terrified I no longer dared to sleep and instead took power naps, jolting myself awake before I could become entrenched in a dream.

Needless to say, I became sleep-deprived and at three years old, that wasn't exactly a good thing.

I wasted away, staring at nothing, waiting for something to attack me.

Every small movement and sound was now accompanied by fear and suspicion. Even changing my bedroom into a Disney-themed one didn't help.

Somehow, the shadows were everywhere. And they were driving me mad.

I stayed like this for a month until Hal finally barged into my room to demand what was going on.

He dragged me to the park with me kicking and screaming bloody murder along the way, and forced me to stay there.

"You need to get out of the house." He scolded lightly, placing me on a bench and standing in front of me with his arms folded loosely. "Now, tell me what's going on."

I swallowed heavily and wished that Brownie were here so I could hug him while I talked.

(Hal didn't know I'd created a dog so I was forced to make Brownie disappear for a while.)

"I—" My voice cracked and I glanced at the ground, taking a deep breath.

"There's been something—" I looked up and froze with horror.

The shadowy thing was wrapping itself around Hal's back, its fingers curling over his neck and its empty, empty eyes staring right at me. Its mouth was a long, pale slit that stretched up to its forehead in a chilling smile.

"Guh—" I choked, my eyes going wider than I thought possible.

 _Oh my god._

Hal frowned. "What's wrong?"

How could he not notice the thing on his back?

My body was frozen with terror; my heart had practically stopped beating in my chest.

I had no idea what to do or what to say, but all of a sudden, Valya appeared right behind Hal and she gripped the shadow before slugging it right in its ugly face.

It disappeared in a hiss of smoke and I sagged with relief, giving Valya an immensely grateful look.

Hal touched my hand. "Schrödinger?"

I was pretty sure I heard someone snort.

I was about to introduce him to Valya but she had disappeared.

Why did she leave? I frowned but was reassured by the fact that someone else could see the shadow. Maybe Hal hadn't felt it on his back.

"It's nothing." I got to my feet and smiled brightly, feeling at ease, now that the shadow thing was gone. Hal looked surprised at my sudden mood change but shrugged nonchalantly.

"Okay. If you say so."

We walked around the park for a bit, and somehow, it was slightly comforting to have Hal at my side.

The sun was starting to set and it was getting cold, so Hal steered me in the direction of his house.

Interrupting the amiable silence, I tugged on Hal's hand. "Hal? Do you believe in monsters?"

His brow creased. "What brought this up?"

I tried to look as innocent as possible. "Nothing. Just wondering if you believe in things that may not exist."

"Schrödinger," he laughed, "everything exists. They may not exist in this world, but they can exist in another. Don't you know who you were named after?"

"Unfortunately." I grumbled, "You've only told me about him like a million times."

"It wasn't a million—I've only told it forty seven times."

I stared at him with disbelief. "You counted?"

"Yes, and I'm going to tell it again. This makes forty five. Schrödinger's equation has multiple interpretation on the different possible systems in the universe. We can make guesses for quantum mechanics with this. And do you know what this all means? That there are different worlds out there; different universes with different people and different lives. Could magic exist? Sure, maybe not in this world, but it could exist in another world. Or maybe magic already exists, but it lingers on a different dimension that humans simply can't reach. That's my job—to figure out the infinite possibilities there are, and to bring it down to a comprehensive level. So yes, I do believe in what doesn't exist. Because it may not exist here, but it definitely exists somewhere else."

"Wow, thanks Hal; that was so enlightening." I said sarcastically.

But a part of me was relieved—I hadn't thought reincarnation to be possible. I mean, how could I possibly live here? I'd always been scared that the life I was living was fake, but maybe I was just in a different world.

Everything that was going on was supposed to be impossible, but it was real. This was my life now, and there was nothing I could change about it. This was a strange world, and I was living in it.

We reached the door of Hal's house and when I stepped inside, I glanced behind me on a whim.

There was a pitch black face right behind me, with empty eye sockets and a gaping mouth so wide it could swallow my whole head.

And it was right in front of my face.

I flinched violently but didn't shriek like I wanted to—I'd had these shadows stalking me for so long that I had to learn not to scream every time I saw them or I wouldn't even have enough vocal cords left to scream.

Quietly, I backed into the house and shut the door in its face. My heart pounded wildly and loudly, thumping in my ears as I followed Hal to his study, determined to stay calm.

 _That's right, act like nothing happened and maybe it'll go away._

Nothing had changed. The shadows were still here, and I had a feeling they would never go away.

And just like I was living in this world, I would have to learn to live with them.

* * *

I woke up from my latest dream where I'd been building a fancy castle only to be greeted by a grotesque, dark figure hanging from the top of my bed; its long hair dangling in messy strands and its upside down face leering in front of mine.

 _ **helLOoo**_ it rasped, its mouth widening until a gaping hole covered its entire face.

My heart gave a jolt and contracted sharply, but I didn't give any outward reaction.

"Fuck off." I muttered, punching it so hard that it flew into the wall opposite me.

It disappeared in a puff of smoke and I sighed wearily. What a great way to start the morning.

I'd been living like this for the past two years—random shadows jumping out at me, lingering behind corners and stalking me wherever I went. I was five now, and honestly, not a lot could scare me anymore.

Clambering out of my bed, I dragged my legs to the bathroom where I got ready. I brushed my teeth with my eyes closed and when I dried my face and finally looked up, I was greeted with another ugly-ass shadow thing in the mirror.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." I growled, and walked out before it could reach its hand out. I couldn't exactly punch the mirror, so there was nothing to do but leave.

Brownie yipped at my heels, chasing off another shadow that had been following me.

(I'd pretended to find a dog outside and convinced Hal to let me keep him.)

After making breakfast, I gobbled everything up and headed off to Hal's library.

(I didn't make anything for him—that lazy asshole could make his own breakfast.)

Making my way through the maze of shelves that I knew too well at this point, I found the section for Greek and Latin books.

I pulled out the book I'd been working on yesterday, deciding to continue it.

I'd been really bored one day and had gone into Hal's library, looking for something to read when I discovered that I could actually read Greek and Latin. For some reason, Greek was a lot easier to read—I could barely read English for the life of me.

It was just another one of life's mysteries that I wasn't going to bother solving.

I sucked at reading English; all the words were jumbled up and the letters were rearranged into something barely readable.

It wasn't fun. So the only thing left I had to read were Greek books, and there weren't many of those in the public library.

One perk of living with Hal was that he was obsessed with having a ton of books about subjects he didn't even know. And he was in the wealthy part of the population, so he could pretty much buy whatever he wanted.

He actually had a whole shelf dedicated to books written in Ancient Greek, and I was halfway through all the books.

Before I settled down in the comfy armchair I'd made Hal get for me, a book with a shimmering gold spine caught my eye.

Carefully setting down the book I was holding, I climbed the ladder and reached for the one that had caught my attention.

Brushing away a shadow that was hovering near my shoulder, I pulled it out with a grunt, trying to balance its weight in my tiny hands. I was stuck teetering on the ladder, and finally decided to drop it on the ground.

It landed with a loud thunk and I winced, hoping that it was still in good condition. After climbing down, I hauled it onto the chair and cracked it open.

Strangely enough, it wasn't much of a typical book. It seemed to be a list of…spells.

I scanned the pages, looking through the different spells and their explanations. Each of the spells were strangely formatted, some with long lines and some with short lines. Some were just a jumble of words that somehow made sense when I read them in my head.

It shouldn't have made sense, but it made sense anyway.

I snorted. This would actually be useful if magic were real. I lugged the book to Hal's office.

"Hal? Where did you get this book?"

There was no reply for a few minutes and I waited patiently, used to Hal's annoying habits by now.

"Hm?" He asked, finally turning around.

I sighed. "I said, where did you get this book?"

He frowned, looking contemplative as he took the book from me. "I don't remember buying this book."

"It was in your library." I deadpanned, "Is the old age finally getting to you?"

"Perhaps it is." He mused. "I really don't remember buying this. It looks very interesting, though. Where did you find it?"

"In the Ancient Greek section."

He gave the book back to me. "Well, have fun reading it. Maybe it was meant to be."

I rolled my eyes. It still amused me how unruffled Hal could be in the face of the most absurd things—he hadn't even batted an eye at my ability to read Ancient Greek—but he could say the weirdest things.

"Um, no. I don't think this was meant to be but I'll take it. It won't hurt to read it, I guess."

 _I have nothing better to do with my time, anyway._

I spent the rest of the morning reading it before I ate lunch and headed out to the park.

It had taken a while for me to bump into Valya at the park again, but after we met, she'd started showing up a lot more and we' become good friends.

I still thought it was strange that she was okay with being friends with a toddler and didn't have any friends her age, but whatever. Everyone had their own quirks and I wasn't going to judge her.

When I arrived, she was already on our usual bench waiting for me.

"Hey Brownie!" She cooed, and Brownie jumped into her arms.

"Wow, am I invisible or something?" I drawled, plopping next to her on the bench.

She rolled her eyes. "Hi, Vin." She greeted in an exaggerated tone.

I pulled the book from my bag. "Look what I found in Hal's library."

Her eyes widened as she glanced at the cover and she let go of Brownie.

The reason why I'd shown it to her was because we had a shared ability of reading Ancient Greek, and I was hoping she would know something about its mysterious appearance. Valya tended to know a lot of things.

"It was in his library?"

"Yeah, it just somehow appeared and I found it today."

Valya crossed her arms. "Hmm." Brownie bounced on her lap and jumped onto the book I was holding.

"Brownie, don't mess up the cover." I scolded, gently placing him onto the space next to me.

Valya opened her mouth to say something but a shadow chose that moment to appear, swinging between us with a twisted neck.

I inhaled sharply before roughly swatting it away.

"That still happens?" Valya asked softly, her eyes sad.

I sighed, annoyed. "Yeah, every day. I wish they'd just stop but I don't know how to get rid of them. At least they don't come in groups."

Valya placed an arm around my shoulders and ruffled my short hair.

Valya was pretty much the only person I let touch me—with the occasional exception of Marmy—and she was the only person I trusted. In fact, she was the only friend that I had in this shitty world.

As sad as it sounded, she was one of my anchors now, and I was just glad that I had someone to talk to. She always understood what I was going through, and that just helped immensely. Having someone to be there for me was something that was keeping me grounded.

Suddenly, I heard a shout, and a ball came hurtling at us.

The soccer ball rammed straight through Valya.

Wait, what?

I took a double take and stared.

The ball had just gone through Valya.

What the fuck.

The boy who'd kicked it came running towards me. "Sorry about that!"

What. My brain was still having trouble processing what had just happened.

"Uh." I said intelligently.

Valya gave me a guilty expression.

"Uh." I said.

The boy picked up his ball and gave me a funny look before running back to his game.

"Vin, I can explain." Started Valya unhappily.

"Uh." I said.

Literally nothing made sense in my life.

* * *

 **A/N: Please excuse my inaccuracies with quantum mechanics—I tried to read up on it before I wrote this, but I had trouble understanding a lot of it. (I literally spent hours reading Wikipedia and I still don't understand anything.)**

 **Thank you to everyone who followed and favorited and thanks for reading; feel free to leave any comments!**


	5. fIvE

Valya stared at me. I stared at her.

I didn't know how to feel right now, but I was pretty sure I was going to be mad in a few minutes.

"Okay. Okay. What's going on? What _the fuck_ is going on?"

Valya looked as if she was about to cry. "Vin, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to lie to you like this. It's just that it's been decades since anyone's talked to me—"

"What?" I interrupted, "Did you just say _decades_?"

Valya winced. "Yes?"

I raised a hand to signal her to stop. Nothing was making sense right now.

My friend—my only friend—my _best_ friend was a ghost?

The only person I had trusted had lied to me. She was a ghost.

My only friend wasn't even real.

What the fuck was even real in my life?

What the fuck was going on? Was I real? Was Hal real? Was this park even real?

Thoughts and questions swirled in my mind, overtaking every rational area and turning into an aftermath of a natural disaster.

"Vin…" Valya tried to put a hand on my shoulder but I slapped it away.

"Don't touch me." I snapped with gritted teeth.

She shrunk back, hurt.

I felt a stab of guilt but I brushed it away.

She'd lied to me. The only one I'd trusted in this fucked up world had lied to me.

"Okay." I said, sitting down heavily on the ground, "Explain."

"I—" Her voice was pitifully small. "I'm a ghost. Always have been, always will be. I've always been a ghost around this area, but I decided to sit near you that day. I don't even know why, it was like some kind of compulsion." She shook her head with frustration. "I don't know. But I was shocked that you could see me, and that I could touch Brownie. I mean, I'm a ghost. I can't touch anything. And no one can see me. But here you were, the first human contact I'd had in years. I couldn't just let it go."

We'd been two lonely souls who'd found each other. Both of us had thought we were alone in this world. Perhaps that was why we'd bonded so strongly.

A bit of my anger melted away. "Go on." I urged, my voice softer this time.

Her body loosened a sliver and her face brightened a bit. "You weren't really a normal toddler, you know. Somehow, you became my best friend."

My heart stuttered. This was the first time someone had called me their best friend. I was so, unbearably happy. The feeling expanded in my chest and I felt exhilaratingly light.

"You too," I said quietly, "You're my best friend."

If ghosts could cry, I'm pretty sure that Valya was crying right now. "I'm sorry." She whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

I let her hug me tightly, and now that I knew she was a ghost, I noticed things that should have made it obvious. Her body temperature was a frosty cold, and her body was strangely solid yet not.

"Wait," I said, "how can I touch you? You're a ghost."

Valya pulled back and bit her lip. "Vin, try not to take this the wrong way."

I narrowed my eyes with suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"That day we met, remember that I left really abruptly? As a ghost, I'm tethered to the Underworld. I'm not supposed to be able to interact with mortals."

Mortals? That was a weird word to use.

She continued on, watching me carefully. "I disappeared because I was being pulled back. It's part of my punishment—to live so close to the mortals, but I'll never be able to really be alive again."

"Punishment?" I echoed, my brows furrowing. I made a mental note to make her elaborate on it later—I knew she was going to avoid the subject and be ambiguous, as usual.

Valya sighed. "It's a long story. Anyway, the only reason why I appeared the second time was because you wanted me to. It was subconscious of course, but your ability allowed me to appear. And then after that, our bond became stronger and stronger, and so my presence here became stronger."

"Um, what? Did you just say _ability_?"

What the fuck was this? Some kind of magical girl thing?

"Look, Vin, you don't know yet, but your ability gives you control over the Mist. That's why you can touch me. And that fueled my aura and allowed me to appear."

What? I had no idea how many times I'd thought "what" in the past few hours, but it was probably nearing a hundred.

The Mist? What the hell was that? I had the ability to control mist? That had nothing to do with whatever was happening.

"Isn't mist a form of water droplets? What does that have to do with anything?"

Valya shook her head with exasperation. "I can't believe your dad didn't tell you anything. It's Mist, with a capital M."

"My dad? You mean Hal? He knows about this shit?" My voice raised higher and higher until I was practically shouting.

That asshole knew about all this? And he didn't tell me? That was almost as bad as Valya being a ghost.

"Is my ability forcing you to stay here?"

"I _told_ you not to take it the wrong way. No, you're just giving me a more corporal form. The thing is, that you manipulate the Mist, but a lot of it is just unconscious—the Mist bends to your will. Whatever you want, the Mist creates for you."

Huh? That was the craziest shit I'd heard all day. "What's the Mist, anyway?"

"It's an illusionary type power. You see, the two of us are demigods."

Okay, _that_ was officially the craziest shit I'd heard all day. None of this was making any sense, and it wasn't making me feel any better about myself. Now, I was just stuck in an even darker hole.

"Is it just me, or did you say demigods? As in half god, half human."

"Not human," she corrected, "Mortal. Half mortal."

Well, that explained a lot. Not.

"You're saying we're both half god?"

"Yes."

"That is… complete bullshit."

Valya looked offended. "You don't believe me?"

"How can someone be half god? How can _I_ be half god?"

Rubbing her head wearily, Valya let out a tired exhale. "I'm not very good at this." She muttered. "Okay, basically, the Greek gods and goddesses are alive. And we're their kids."

"That doesn't explain very much." I said dryly, "Maybe you could explain _how the fuck this is even possible_."

Valya looked very, very frustrated. "Look, I don't know that much about this. I'd only known I was a demigod for around a month before I was killed. You have to ask someone else."

"Okay, okay that's fine. Just—just let me think about this. Like actually process this all."

I held my head in my hands, running over everything she'd just said.

If Valya wasn't completely insane and was telling the truth, I was a demigod. That sounded like bullshit already, but having abilities sounded even more like bullshit.

Something Valya had mentioned caught in my mind, like a thorn catching onto a thread of clothing.

"I make things appear? Like I've known that I can do that for most of my short life, but I make things appear? Without consciously thinking it?"

Valya gave me an affirmative nod. "Yes, because of your nature, the Mist does what it can to shield you. It's the only reason why monsters haven't come after you yet."

I shot her a look of disbelief. "Monsters? You mean those shadowy things that are always around?"

Glancing towards the side, Valya was silent for a moment. "Those aren't monsters. Those were created by you. I can see them because in a way, you also created me."

Fuck. _Fuck._ I've been doing this to myself for all these years?

 _What the fuck._

I was done. Done with this whole thing, done with my life. Done.

"Like I said, you didn't create them intentionally. You had a nightmare that day because you were too close to the dead, and your abilities amplified the effect. But the more you feared them, the more real they became. And eventually, they became a part of your life because you allowed them to be."

Shit. I could _not_ do this anymore.

"Then how _the fuck_ do I get rid of them?" I screeched, wanting to go on a rampage.

"I can't answer that." Said Valya sadly, "I'm a daughter of Apollo. I didn't really have to deal much with the Mist. We don't have the same godly parent. Besides, you have a dad, so by default, your parent is a female."

Well I guess that narrowed it down a bit. (Like I knew anything about this anyway).

But if I'd created those shadows, then who knows what else I'd created. If the Mist answered to my unconscious, who knows what was real and wasn't?

"Oh my god." I said suddenly.

"It's actually 'oh my gods'." Valya corrected politely.

"Oh my gods." I repeated.

I stared blankly at the space in front of me.

What if Hal wasn't real? What if I had created him because of my longing to have a parental figure?

Who was real in my life; what was real in my life?

"Does this park exist?" I blurted, my mind racing with possibilities.

"Yes, of course." Soothed Valya, "I've been here for decades."

Okay, okay. I took a deep breath. Trying to calm myself.

Nope. That wasn't going to work.

Because _my whole life was possibly fake and I might not even have a biological father._

Shit.

"I—I have to go." I said distractedly, abruptly getting up and dashing away. I wasn't really paying attention, but I think Brownie stayed with Valya.

"Wait!" Valya called, "Vin! I can't go past the park! Vin!"

My heart pounded in my chest, pounded to the pure insanity that was my mind, the blaring confusion that made my head throb.

I ran and ran, hearing only my footsteps echoing in my mind.

No wonder I had been able to create all those illusions. And no wonder they didn't affect the real world—people could see them, experience them like they were real, but ultimately, they weren't real.

So what if Hal and Marmy were only figments of my imagination?

My world was coming crashing down around me and there was nothing I could do but run.

Tears blurred my eyes, staining my cheeks with cold trails, and I cried for the first time in the twelve years I'd been alive in both lives.

I dashed into Hal's house—was it even a real house?—and shoved some things in my bag—were those even real?—slung it over my shoulder, and ran out the door.

I was getting the fuck out of here, and no one was going to stop me.

* * *

 **A/N: So this kinda clues in a lot more on who Vin's godly parent is. I'm trying to portray her mental breakdown but it's a lot harder than I thought it would be. It'll be going into Camp-Halfblood in a few chapters, but there's still some stuff I have to cover. But the godly parent reveal is coming soon.**

 **Anyway, thank you to everyone who followed and favorited this story, and thank you to D3tectiveCain for reviewing.**

 **As usual, feel free to leave whatever comments you want and thanks for reading!**


	6. s Ix

I ran and ran, the soles of my feet burning as they slammed against the sidewalk, again and again.

There was too much going on, too much that I didn't know, and I was scared.

So I blocked it all out and listened to the sound of my harsh breathing, one breath at a time.

In and out, in and out.

I ran until I was just as lost as I was on the inside. I'd hardly been out of my neighborhood, and once I'd left all familiar areas, I had no idea where I was.

Good. I needed to get as far away as I could. I needed to get away from what had been my life.

A small coffee shop caught my eye and I went in, sitting down at a table closest to the door.

My body was heavy and weary from all the running, and I was so tired of everything.

Shutting my eyes, I leaned against the back of the chair.

Nothing was making sense. The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became.

What if I'd accidentally created my own world? If other people couldn't see what I created subconsciously, then what if I'd been living in something I'd created for myself the entire time without knowing? I hardly had any human contact, so that would make a lot of sense.

Besides, it explained the strange and uncomfortable looks people always gave me when I went to the park. I'd just thought it was because I was a toddler always be herself, but I was hilariously wrong.

Of course people would be weirded out by a kid always talking to herself.

I laughed bitterly and huddled as far into the chair as I could.

I don't know how long I sat there, trying to get away from the world before a waitress approached me.

"Hi, honey." She smiled as sweetly as she could, "Where are your parents?"

Oh yeah. I was just a five year old kid. She probably thought I was homeless or something.

I shrugged vaguely and ignored her.

Taking that as a sign to leave me alone, she frowned and left.

The sun had already set, and the sky had already turned a fathomless dark; there were no stars tonight.

The waitress walked over to me again. "The shop is closing, honey. I'm sorry, but you have to leave."

I glared at her. She really had to stop calling me "honey". I was not her honey, and I never would be.

"Whatever." Remaining still, I resolutely turned my head to the side. It wasn't as if I'd hurt anyone by staying here for the night.

The waitress folded her arms in a confrontational stance, getting annoyed. "Honey, you can't stay here. What happened to your parents? Do you have a place to stay?"

I really, really wanted to tell her to fuck off. So I did.

"Would you kindly lock down the shop and _fuck off_?"

Her jaw dropped and she was speechless for a few seconds before spinning on her heel and leaving.

I pretty much tuned out everything else after that and had nearly fallen asleep until I heard the distant and irritating sound of a siren.

Clambering onto my knees, I peered out the window to look at the police car that was passing by.

To my surprise, it didn't keep going and instead stopped right in front of the coffee shop.

Oh shit.

The waitress opened the door for the police and I quickly jumped to my feet, running to the back of the store to look for the back door.

That bitch had called the police on me.

Yup, I was never staying in place with people again.

Running through the kitchen doors, I spotted the back door which was all the way at the end of the room in the corner.

Just a little bit more and I'd have my freedom.

(Curse these stubby legs.)

I touched the doorknob and prepared to wrench it open, only to be grabbed by the scruff of my t-shirt by a police officer.

Dammit. Damn the gods. Damn everyone.

I scowled heavily and put on my best "I will stab you with that fork over there" face.

Which was pretty much what I was planning to do. As the officer turned me around, I discreetly kept an eye on the utensils on the counter beside me.

He hauled closer and gripped me tightly to hold me in place.

I hissed threateningly. I didn't want anyone touching me.

"What's a kid like you doing here all alone?" He had the kind of voice that was nasally and high-pitched—the kind that really grated on my nerves and made me hate him even more.

There was a closed door behind me, two counters next to me, and a police officer in front of me. All possible escape routes were closed off. I was trapped.

Shit. Being surrounded was the last thing I wanted—my breaths came in faster gulps and I could feel myself start to sweat.

I was seriously, seriously scared. I didn't want to go back, and I didn't want to deal with this police officer.

Clenching my fists tightly, I kicked the police officer in the shin as hard as I could, and he yelped in surprise. Using his momentary distraction as an opening, I turned tail and dashed to the back door, thrusting it open with a hard shove.

(Things didn't come easy when you were only three feet tall.)

He immediately chased after me, shouting. I only got as far as maybe ten feet before he caught up with me.

This was one of the times I really, really wished I had a body that actually matched my mentality.

I was caught—trapped. There was no escape. Everything was closing in on me; I couldn't discern the line between reality and fantasy anymore and I had nowhere to run to.

The air began to feel heavier, thicker. It became harder to breathe, and I felt like I was slowly being choked by the air. The world seemed to close in on me, and the night's darkness swirled menacingly.

I needed to get out—I needed to escape—there was nowhere to run but—I needed to _get out_ —

The shadows pressed in closer and I saw looming faces stalk closer and closer until they surrounded me on all sides, wrapping their creaking arms around my neck like a spider. A shadow's limp, tangled hair tickled my face, and its featureless face thrust right in front of mine.

Terrified, I swerved my face to another direction only to be met with a dark, dark face that melted into the night until there was nothing but empty, empty eyes filled with blood and death and nothingness.

I threw my hands over my head in a protective stance and screamed.

"Just leave me alone! Leave me alone!" I elbowed out at the shadows, swinging my arms wildly without any direction.

The police officer shouted out from behind the thick mist of the shadows, trying to dodge my fists. "What the fuck?"

He reached forward and tried to restrain me, but all I could see was his decapitated head sitting on the side of the road and wrinkled, grotesque hands reaching for me.

There was blood and darkness everywhere. The scent of death permeated the air, giving everything a musty tang that made me sick to my stomach. Blood splattered the buildings, my arms, the streets, filling the leering darkness with a hellish nightmare that could only have come straight from Satan himself.

The police officer's mouth opened and all I saw was a gaping hole and razor sharp teeth. He tried to say something, but I couldn't hear anything except for the rasping voice that echoed around me.

 _ **I'll KilL yoU i'Ll ki l l yOu i'll K Il l y OU**_

I screamed with everything I had, feeling the rawness of my throat burn against my shriek, but I kept screaming because I was going to die and I was being killed and _I was dying_.

"Don't kill me!" I begged, punching at whatever I could. "Stop! Don't touch me!"

And then something shocked me right in the neck, sending lightning throughout my body. It was a cold, sweet relief, and I fell into pain and darkness.

* * *

When I woke up, I was lying on a bench in what I assumed to be a police station.

My head throbbed like no tomorrow and this was probably what getting a hangover felt like, but ten times worse.

I tried to open my mouth to say something but my throat ached so much that I could barely throw out a sound.

Silently, I lay there and listen to some random adults whispering in a huddle near me.

I had no idea what was going on or where I was, but this was better than being stuck in Hal's house, where I couldn't be sure of anything.

Or could I even be sure of anything here?

The walls seemed to shimmer and they kept flickering like they were static, a faint yellow hue overtaking it.

Was I just dreaming? I mean, I ended up in pretty random places in my dreams, so maybe I really was dreaming.

The light above me melted into a deep crimson, casting an eerie light on the room.

This probably was a dream, then. I conjured up Brownie and held him in my arms, burying my face in his soft fur.

He wasn't real, but he was a familiar comfort that I needed.

I hugged him tighter and he licked my face.

One of the adults broke away from the group and walked near me. She was a tall woman wearing a nice skirt and a fancy button up blouse. Her face was gentle, but she seemed to have a strict aura around her.

"Hello there." She leaned down and faced me at eye-level. It was like she was trying to talk to a wounded animal.

Upon noticing Brownie, she raised her eyebrows. "Where did this cute dog come from?"

The police officer who'd first caught me looked over and frowned in confusion. "I've never seen that dog before."

I backed away from the lady, holding Brownie in a vice grip. I wasn't going to let anyone take him away from him.

"It's alright," She soothed, "we're not going to take it away."

"Brownie." I snapped, "Not 'it'."

If this was a dream, it was a pretty shitty dream. And I usually didn't talk to other people in my dreams, but who knows? Maybe I was having a new type of dream today.

I decided to test it out. If this was a dream, the people would notice the weird walls and the light. If it wasn't, this probably wasn't a dream.

But then again, if this was a dream, there was a possibility that I'd created these people, so maybe they would say that they couldn't see it.

Wait—actually, Valya had said that she could see the shadows because I had in some way created her, right? So these people would definitely be able to see the walls and the light.

I looked at the lady directly in the eyes. "The walls are pretty weird, aren't they? They keep moving weirdly. And the light is really red. What is this place?"

The lady's eyes widened in a noticeable display of alarm. "What walls and light are you taking about?"

"Uh, nothing." Well, shit. I guess this was real life. Whoops.

"No, sweetie," She gave me a gentle, prodding smile, "Why don't you tell me more?"

This was going to be hard to get out of. Time to play the dumb five year old card. "I dunno. Where am I? Where's my daddy? I'm scared, I wanna go home!"

My eyes began to fill with crocodile tears and I just out my lip as I began to blubber.

"I wanna go home!" I wailed loudly, purposely making a scene.

It wouldn't be until later that I would realize those tears were real.

"Aww, it's okay, sweetie." The lady leaned forward and gave me a loose hug. I had to force myself not to instinctively stiffen and move away.

She rubbed soothing circles on my back. "Shh, it's okay." Waiting for me to calm down, she continued to pat me and act like a sweet, motherly figure.

I wasn't going to fall for it.

Finally, I let myself stop fake crying and started fake whimpering.

"Sweetie, can you tell me your name? How old are you?"

"I'm—I'm Vin. I'm five." I held up five fingers for effect.

"Oh, okay. Can you tell me why you were in the coffee shop by yourself? Where was your dad?"

Well, shit. I didn't want to be sent to an asylum or something, but I didn't really know what to say. It wasn't like I could say "Oh yeah I just found out my best friend is actually dead and that I might not even have a real dad and could be possibly be living a fake life half of the time?" Yeah, just your typical five year old problems, you know. Ha.

I was going to have to come up with a really good lie.

Wait. If Hal wasn't real, then he should come if I really want him to be here, right? I need an adult to bail me out, and if I created him, he should appear.

I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for someone to come and get me.

Nothing happened.

Maybe it took a while to take effect?

Time to practice my lying skills, I guess.

"I was running away 'cause my friend was being mean to me. And then I saw the shop and wanted to take a break but I got really tired and I accidentally fell asleep."

The lady nodded reassuringly. "Okay, sweetie. Can you tell me why you got so scared when the officer tried to take you home?"

Wow, that is _not_ what happened. That police officer is such a lying asshole.

But now I had no idea what to say—if I said there were shadows chasing me, I was going to be shipped off for sure.

I hesitated and tried to look scared and shrunk back a little. The lady waited patiently.

"Hey," someone interrupted, "There's no Vin on any of the registers for the locals. What's her last name?"

Oh shit, this was awesome! If Hal showed up on the police registers, he had to be real.

"My daddy's name is Hal Rogers." I said shyly.

The policeman behind the lady snorted. "I shoulda known this is _Hal's_ kid. Nutters, the two of 'em."

Hal was real! I sagged with relief, grateful that at least my entire life hadn't been a lie.

The lady frowned. "George!" She scolded, looking pointedly at me.

"Sorry." He muttered petulantly, "I guess I'll go call 'im up to come on down to the station."

Were all police officers such assholes?

Still, I didn't get why this lady was talking to me. Maybe they thought I would be less intimidated if a woman was talking to me.

"So, sweetie, what happened?"

I shrugged. "Nothing, I got scared." I tried to look as pale and unassuming as possible.

"Scared of what?" She pushed.

"The scary policeman."

"Why did you scream "don't kill me"?"

This lady was so godsdamned persistent. "Because I thought he was going to kill me."

The lady gave me a fake smile. "Okay, sweetie. Just sit here and get some rest, okay?"

She stood up and walked to the policeman, probably to give her report or something. I flipped her off behind her back.

Fifteen minutes later, Hal burst into the station and they pulled him aside to talk to him.

I couldn't tell what they were talking about because they switched rooms and shut the door.

Assholes, the whole lot of them.

Finally, they let me go, and Hal picked me up in his arms with a worried expression.

"Schrödinger, why did you run away?"

"My friend was mean to me."

I could tell Hal didn't believe me, but he smoothed my hair and hugged me to him anyway.

I thought everything was going to be okay, but a few days later, Hal brought me to see a child psychologist on the orders of the lady who'd been at the police station.

(Who also was apparently a psychologist—fucking sneaky people everywhere.)

I failed the evaluation.

* * *

 **A/N: Again, thank you to everyone who's keeping up with this story and thank you for reading. I promise she'll meet some PJO characters, but she has to go through some more things before she goes to Camp Half-Blood. Please feel free to leave any comments and again, thank you for reading!**


	7. sEveN

I was thrown into an asylum and Hal didn't even do anything about it. How nice.

Every single day there was hell. After a while, I stopped counting the days and just let them pass in a mindless, droning blur. Time passed like molasses—slow and dully.

The worse part was that I was _not_ insane, but they treated me like I was.

Everyone was so fucking patronizing, and I even had to take pills. Who the fuck does that to a five year old kid?

Apparently, they were trying to "fix me" at a young age before I could get any worse. And I was diagnosed with schizophrenia.

Yeah, I was officially a crazy now.

The facilities weren't terrible—it was nothing like the ones you saw in the movies—but it was boring and irritating as fuck here.

My room was nice and clean, with a bed and a small bathroom.

That was it.

It was just as bad as the crib I had to stay in for a year—I was being trapped all over again.

And staying in this place didn't even help me increase my grip on reality; it just made it worse.

The nurse was kind to me and often brought me out to the area where everyone hung out, but I was being constantly supervised. Constantly watched.

Slowly, the nurses began to lose their faces and the shadows took over them, turning them into black masses of horror and hollowness.

I couldn't really look any of them in the eye anymore. Being surrounded by them 24/7 was driving me crazy and even though I knew they weren't trying to hurt me, their changed forms made everything they said and did so fucking creepy.

I wouldn't be surprised if someone decided to turn my life into a horror movie one day.

Everyone here was crazy in one way or another—they weren't terrible people or anything, it was just hard for them to communicate sometimes.

Kinda like me, I hate to admit. Being stuck in a tiny body like this wasn't exactly good for my mental health, and the dissonance of my previous life made it all the worse.

Well, it wasn't like that mattered. It paled in comparison to the hallucinations I'd been having.

The more I tried to convince myself I wasn't crazy, the crazier I became.

(But I liked to think I was sane.)

I'd had a few freak outs in my first two months here, but after that, I learned how to control myself.

You see, the thing about being crazy is that you have to pretend you aren't, and believe that you're sane until you really are.

So basically—just live with it. I mean, I loathed those shadows with every inch of my being, but what could I really do about it? Every time I tried to get rid of them, all my underlying fears and uncertainties would pop up and make them worse.

I think the whole idea about my ability to control the Mist was that it'd keep manipulating itself (indirectly from me) until I became a solid person who could let go of fears and insecurities.

But that was impossible for me right now—I still wasn't sure what the fuck was going on and if I was delusional or not. I mean, Greek gods? Really?

I began to control my fears, and I got used to all the general insanities of my life. My life here was basically and infinite loop of the same thing over and over, and Hal barely came to visit (Marmy wasn't authorized to do so) so I had nothing to do but try to live.

The weird thing was that the book I'd found in Hal's library appeared on my bed one day, so at least I had that to practice from. It was a book of spells and well, if I was going to accept that the Greek gods were real, I might as well believe in magic.

I hadn't tried out any of the spells for a while—the last time I did that, I accidentally set my bed on fire, and that didn't exactly help convince the staff that I was mentally stable.

But the good thing was that the book had actually added a section to itself, explaining a lot of the Greek gods and goddesses, their children, and what exactly this whole thing was about.

So the hardest thing was just convincing people that I wasn't crazy and that I could get the hell outta here.

But when you believe that you're the kid of a Greek god and have powers—yeah, that isn't the best road onto sanity.

(There's a fine line between sanity and insanity though, right?)

* * *

It wasn't until Hal's most recent visit that I found out that I'd been here for a little over a year now. And I'd pretty much spent that year wasting away in my own illusions, because fuck it, I lived in a world of both dreams and reality.

And if I was a little less sane than what I'd first started out as? Well, that wasn't my problem, now, was it?

But yeah, I was six now. Yay.

I celebrated my fake birthday with Brownie, my only constant companion.

(I also sometimes wondered if there was another Brownie still with Valya. And speaking of Valya, I had a feeling I wasn't going to see her for a long time.)

When the nurses weren't in my room, I always turned it into a lake-themed room, because it was actually pretty soothing. Having a lake and mountain background always let me pretend that I wasn't actually living in an asylum and was living the life somewhere else—somewhere far away from here.

The really sad thing was that I only had my illusions as comfort and I preferred them to the real world. I knew that wasn't going to end up well, but whatever, I was going to live as good of a life as I could right now.

And then one day, the nurses/shadow things told me I was going to be released from the asylum. It took all I had not to jump up in ecstatic screams and run around the building shrieking "Hallelujah".

I was finally getting out. And I was going to get my first taste of freedom in the whole year I'd been here.

I was all packed and ready, waiting for Hal to come when a random lady appeared in my room.

Yeah, she just randomly appeared. But I just took it all in stride because, hey, I'd seen weirder things.

"Hi?" I said awkwardly, trying not to stare at her.

Because she had brilliant green eyes. In fact, she was the most beautiful lady I'd ever seen, with an aura of power surrounding her that shifted and thrummed with something so strange and mystical I hardly knew how to describe it.

But the thing that called out to me most was her green eyes. They weren't a bright, emerald green or a light green. They were a dark green, but somehow still vivid and dazzling.

They were as ancient as the universe and held more mystery than our galaxy. She was something I'd never seen before; had something I'd never felt before, but somehow still achingly familiar.

She nagged at my mind because somehow, I felt as if I'd seen her before.

And then she stepped closer, and I realized that her eyes were the same color as mine.

"Hello, Schrödinger Chandra."

"Oh gods," I groaned, "Don't call me that. Ever. It's Vin."

Only Hal called me that.

The corner of her lips quirked up and she gave me an almost-smile. "Vin, I am your mother."

Heh. I kind of felt like Luke Skywalker right now.

But _what_? Did she just say she was my mother?

Wasn't my mother supposed to be a goddess or something?

"Uh." I stammered, unsure of what the fuck she wanted me to say. I mean, I'd never even met this woman before, and yeah. I wasn't sure how she got in here, but I wanted to make sure she wasn't crazy before I accepted it.

(I _was_ in an asylum, after all.)

She walked forward until she was an arm's length away. "Would you like me to prove it to you?"

"That'd be great." I said wryly.

"I am Hecate, the goddess of magic. Where do you think you got your abilities from? You are mine as much as the magic is yours." Her voice was gentle yet imperious; she had a confidence to the way she carried herself and a regal stature that I hadn't seen in anyone before.

She was most definitely a goddess.

And she was my mother.

I began to feel anger rising up in me; both unexplainable and understandable.

She was my mother, and she'd abandoned me. She'd abandoned me to live this shitty life and hadn't even bothered to explain anything.

If she'd actually explained my powers, things would have been a lot easier for me.

I hadn't realized how bitter I was until now.

I'd gone through six years of suffering, including one year living in a fucking _asylum_ when there was nothing wrong with me.

And you know what, I was right to be angry. Furious, really.

What kind of mother did that to her child?

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" My voice was high-pitched and loud with rage.

Hecate shook her head, though she didn't seem to sorry about what she'd done. "The gods are not allowed to interfere with their children's lives." I opened my mouth, enraged at both her and the gods, but she continued on. "And it was necessary. You need to go through this in order to grow. If you do not suffer, you will never learn to control your powers. Even now, you do not have complete control over them."

Well, fuck that.

"I still don't get why you couldn't have just warned me about all this! Why couldn't you have just said something like, 'oh yeah, Vin, by the way, there's a good chance your powers will drive you crazy maybe you shouldn't start using them. And let me actually help you learn to control them'? I wouldn't have had to go through all this suffering!"

"Vin," She sighed heavily, "your magic is too unstable. It is because you were reincarnated that your abilities are out of control. Besides, I did try to keep an eye on you, you know. Who do you think gave you that book?"

Okay, so maybe she did help a little. The books' creepiness made a lot of sense now. But how did she know that I was reincarnated?

My surprise must have shown on my face, because she said, "I am the goddess of magic and it is because of magic that you were reincarnated—though it was not meant to be so. _However_ ," She emphasized the last word at my horrified look. "Though your reincarnation was not meant to happen, I am glad that you were born."

That was…definitely not what I was expecting. I thought I would be more of a burden to her—just one more child to look over. But her words made some of my anger dissipate; made me feel a little warmer inside, getting rid of some of the acrid taste in my mouth.

I guess, in her own way, my mother did love me. It was an alien feeling, to be loved by a mother and know that she loves you.

Hecate smiled almost tenderly—a thing made of wistful nights under the moon and falling rain. "You are my child."

A strange, but not unwelcome feeling bubbled in my stomach. Warmth curled in my chest and I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Thank you." I whispered, my voice choked with emotion.

It was still strange thinking of her as my mom, but at least I knew that she actually loved me. And for that, I could almost forgive her.

"Um, so why did you only come to see me now?"

Two torches appeared in her hands, and the fire from them lit up the room, casting a pleasant glow over the room, though the flames burned ominously. "You are at a crossroads. You can choose to go with your father, or you can choose to go to Camp Half-blood. At Camp, you will be safe from monsters and you will be able to live with other demigods like you. But with Hal, you will also be safe—you are my child, and you are one with the Mist. Your scent will be hidden from the monsters. With Hal, you can go to school. This is a choice that will determine the path of your life."

Honestly, it wasn't such a hard decision. I mean, at this camp thing, I'd be able to develop my abilities. And Hal wasn't the best dad—I didn't think I would miss him too much.

Camp was obviously the better choice here. Though the name "Camp Half-Blood" sounded kind of funny. The name made it pretty obvious what kind of kids went there. (It sounded kind of discriminating, though.) For some reason, the name nudged at me and my hazy memories from my first life, but I couldn't figure out why.

The events were way too distracting and overwhelming at the moment, so I chose not to dwell on it and shoved it to the back of my mind where I would hopefully remember to ponder it.

I took a deep breath. "I'll go with Camp."

Hecate's eyes glowed and swirled with gold.

I was scared that she was going to leave, so I blurted, "Wait!"

She raised an eyebrow, looking a bit amused. "Yes?"

"How can I control my powers? It's sometimes hard for me to discern reality from fantasy."

"Ah, yes." She nodded like she'd forgotten about that problem. "Your powers. They are overwhelming simply because you were reincarnated. You see, you were born into this world with a mature mind and soul. Your magic was supposed to start out young and untouched, but you tapped into it and forced it to grow at a pace to quick for you to control, in order for it to reach your mature mindset. This makes your magic incredibly strong—in fact, you may be the strongest of my children—at the moment, but it becomes increasing uncontrollable and will take a toll on your mind."

"Wow, great." I said dryly, "So I'll go even more insane?"

"Yes. My children's powers usually do not start to develop until they are twelve. You, however, started when you were born, and as your magic develops, it becomes harder to control because of its sheer quantity and developmental pace."

I groaned. Did that mean I was going to live an even shittier life from here on out? And here I thought I was done with the whole "I'm going crazy" thing.

Hecate placed both arms on my shoulders. "I will give you something to help you control your powers."

Her hands began to glow with a blinding light and instinctively, I shut my eyes.

And then my arms were on fire. Literally. I opened them and found that they were blazing with literal flames.

I'm not ashamed to say that I started screaming.

They burned and burned until it became increasingly smaller, until the flames faded away to reveal a torch on each side of my shoulders.

I was still too shocked and trying to stave off the waves of agony that came from my arms being on fire, so I just stood there and tried not to scream even more.

"These will help you control your powers. They are limiters, in a sense. As you tap into more of your power, they will burn and will stabilize your magic system. That way, you will be able to use the full extent of your powers as well as learn to control them, and eventually, you will not need the torches." Hecate explained, looking as cool as ever like she hadn't just set my arms on fire.

"Thank you, I guess." I still wasn't too happy about my arms being set on fire but I accepted her "gift" anyway. "And I can keep the book, right?"

Hecate gave me an affirmative nod. "You will have to explain your decision to Hal. But do not worry, he already knows everything." She seemed to hesitate—though I wasn't completely sure. "I will see you again."

And with that, she disappeared in a shimmer of Mist.

Well, I guess I know who my mom is now.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed-** **Indra Senin, Goldspark1, and Nitelock75. I'm super, super grateful for all the support! And I guess this chapter reveals Vin's parentage.**

 **As usual, feel free to leave any comments and thanks for reading!**

* * *

 **Reply to Goldspark1:**

 **I agree with you on your points—the PJO universe isn't something I like to deal with, which is why I haven't written anything for it until now. It does have some flaws, but then again, so do a lot of the worlds created. I don't think any of them can be entirely perfect. I also think Vin seems really overpowered in this but it's also due to the nature of her abilities in this world; she is half god, after all. But of course, with her power comes a price (which is her sanity). Honestly, it's really hard to write for this universe, but I mostly wrote this fic as an exploration of sanity versus insanity, so this fic is less plot driven and more focused on the characters' psyches.**


	8. EIgHt

Ugh, this was going to be awkward.

I didn't really know how I felt about Hal—I mean, he basically lied to me my entire life and never said anything about me being a demigod, but he probably had his reasons. And even though he's a really shitty dad, he's not a bad person.

And there were instances where I felt like he cared about me. (He was my dad, after all.)

So I didn't really know how to tell him that I didn't want to go back with him and I wanted to go to random camp instead.

For the first time, I was going to be the shitty daughter instead of him being the shitty father.

But still…he'd _lied_ to me. He'd let me believe I was crazy, let me stay in a fucking _asylum_ for an entire year and hadn't bothered to tell me the truth.

And that really, really pissed me off. It pissed me off, even though I wanted to hear his reason for lying, wanted to forgive him.

And that urge; the desire to forgive him, was what pissed me off the most.

I mean, damn it, did I actually consider him my dad?

One of the nurses called my name, breaking me from my thoughts and announced that Hal had arrived. She picked up my suitcase (at least she was nice enough to do _that_ ) and walked me to the front of the building where Hal was filling out all my paperwork.

He looked up when I appeared, and the biggest grin I'd ever seen on him filled his face, lighting it up with more joy than words could express.

(Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few of the nurses blush.)

"Hey, Schrödinger." He walked forward so he was right in front of me, bent onto his knees, and hugged me.

I stood there with shock, and emotions rushed through me, spinning more than a tornado, and I gaped for a few seconds before I raised a hand and awkwardly patted him on the back.

"I'm so sorry, Schrödinger." He whispered, and my breath caught in my throat.

Everything I'd been trying to keep inside me—my fear, my impending insanity, my anger, my confusion—it all came pouring out, and I choked, my throat catching on the tears I swallowed down.

"It's okay." I whispered back to him, and his arms tightened around me. I was hit with the urge to cry.

I hugged him back just as tightly, and for a little while, we were just father and daughter, and I wasn't a little girl who had lived another life and was possibly crazy in addition to being a demigod.

He let me go, clearing his throat, and smiled. Hal's smiles were the best.

"Ready to go home?" He asked. I hesitated, and then nodded.

Carrying my suitcase in one hand and me in the other, we left the asylum.

After getting settled in his car, I asked what had been on my mind the entire time. "Hal, why didn't you tell me about Hecate?"

Letting out a weary sigh, he met my eyes in the rearview mirror. "So you've met her."

I nodded and he turned back to look at the road. "You see, if a demigod learns about their parentage, their scent becomes even stronger. Monsters are attracted to this scent, and they attack with the intent to kill." He paused and looked at me again. "I never meant to hurt you, Schrödinger."

"Okay." I said, accepting his answer easily. It was logical, it made sense, and he'd done it to protect me. Of course, I'd suffered, but I would rather suffer than be dead.

Hal raised his eyebrows. "That's it? You're not mad or anything?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I was mad. But not anymore. I get it. It's okay. I would've wanted you to tell me, but you also kinda saved my life, so I forgive you." I shrugged and pulled out Hecate's book from my bag, signaling that this route of conversation was over.

"Okay." He laughed.

I was kind of interested in knowing how he and Hecate met, but I had bigger fish to fry at the moment.

Because _holy shit_. I stopped in what I was doing, realizing that I was more prone to being attacked my monsters now.

The shadows things had decreased in number after Hecate had burned the torches onto my arms, but my magic felt strange.

It didn't feel right. Like it was straining to break against a steel cage, making it more unpredictable and uncontrollable than ever.

I'd gotten used to controlling and using the large amounts of magic I had since I was born into this world, and now that I had only a small pool of it, I didn't know how to control it.

I tried to make Brownie appear in the backseat, but nothing happened.

Shit. Now I had to start back from square one.

I closed my eyes, focusing on my magic, and tried to mold it to my will. It was hard.

When I next opened my eyes, we were off the freeway and nearing the isolated road that went into the neighborhood.

The torches on my arms tingled, and I frowned heavily.

A voice in my ear, too undefinable and neither male nor female whispered, _Look behind you._

I looked outside the window, and froze with horror.

A giant, crazy looking bird with sharp talons was heading our way. My heart froze with terror.

 _Wait_ , I told myself, _calm down. A voice told me to look behind me and I listened? I know the voice was just another hallucination. What if this bird is a new hallucination as a result of my powers?_

I tried to ignore the bird, but it got closer and closer, flashing its razor sharp talons.

"Uh, Hal?" I decided to ask, taking a chance, "Do you see a weird giant bird coming right at us?"

He glanced a mirror on his car, and went back to driving. "Yup." He said, not even panicking, "That's a Stymphalian Bird."

" _What_?" I squeaked in horror, because this was an _actual monster_ and I had no idea how to deal with it. "How do I hide my scent?! How do I deal with this? Oh gods."

Hal shot me a cool, controlled look. "Calm down, Schrödinger. Here." He tossed a bronze dagger to me from the front seat. It landed next to me, and I stared at it with increasing fear.

"You have a _dagger in your car_?"

The corner of his mouth quirked. "That's a Celestial Bronze dagger. It can't hurt mortals, but it can cut you and monsters."

"Wait!" I said, confused, "How can you even see the monster? Doesn't the Mist cover it or something?"

He laughed. "I can see through the Mist. Why do you think I got into quantum physics in the first place?"

What the fuck. I was absolutely and totally mindblown. Okay, questions later and action now.

I grabbed the dagger and gripped it in my hand, trying to focus on the fact that there was a real life monster coming that could actually hurt us.

"What do I do with this?" I panicked, "I don't know how to use a dagger."

"You'll figure it out." Hal said, and right at that moment, the bird's talons crashed into our car, shattering the glass of the backseat window and sending our car careening onto the side.

I screamed at the top of my lungs and raised my hands over my head, ducking to avoid the flying glass, and took off my seatbelt, scooting to the other side where the bird's groping talons couldn't cut me.

"Hello?!" I screeched at Hal, who was still calmly trying to maneuver the car into a drivable position, "A bird just crashed into our car and broke all the windows and is _trying to kill me_!"

"Yes," He said nonchalantly, as if nothing had just happened, "I can see that."

I gripped my dagger and tried to cut at the bird's flailing leg, only managing to make a cut that had it barely recoiling before doubling its attack efforts.

The car crashed onto its side, spinning across the road, and came to a stop.

I was possibly upside down, bleeding in multiple places, and possibly had some broken birds. The fucking bird kept attacking and I lunged at it, ignoring the throbbing and shooting pains in my body, and tried to thrust a dagger in it.

Its talon went straight for my tiny chest, and I realized that I couldn't reach its goddamn heart because I was too small.

Hal picked himself up from the front seat and clambered into the back with me, trying to hold the talons of the bird down.

"You okay?" He hollered, still looking unruffled.

"Just peachy!" I grumbled, and pulled my hand back to throw the dagger at the bird with Hal holding its talons down.

The bird shifted, trying to find a new angle to attack us, startling Hal from his grip on its talons, and thrust itself towards us.

I let the dagger go and it hit the bird the moment it hit Hal.

It dropped to the ground, dead, leaving behind a pile of dust and a single, gleaming talon.

It also left behind a deep gash on Hal that went so deep I could see his organs.

Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down, gasping and reaching for Hal, who'd _protected me from a murderous and possibly man-eating bird_.

"Hal?" I reached for his face desperately, "Hal?"

Nothing happened. The blood continued to flow out of him similarly to water gushing out of a sink.

His head was on my lap, and with a violently trembling hand, I reached for his carotid artery to find his pulse.

I pressed my fingers to his neck, waiting for the soft thump of his heart. There was nothing.

My breath hitched and I reached for his arm, retaking his pulse and praying for a pulse.

 _Oh please, gods, just let him live. I'm sorry for everything I've done—just let him live, please._

"Hal!" There was no pulse. "Hal!" My voice shook with pain and terror and loss, because he was dead.

I screamed and screamed until I had nothing left, until my voice was too scratchy to say anything.

I screamed until the police arrived, and was still screaming as they pulled me out of the wreckage.

Foreign hands went around me, but I didn't want them because they weren't Hal's. I screamed, thrashed, and bit, and the hands held me down.

Something cold and thin pierced my neck, and every muscle in my body started to go slack, and I could feel myself drifting off.

But before I fell into the darkness, I could hear the lingering words of a police officer next to me.

"We've got a car crash. I don't know what went wrong. There's one dead and one with major injuries on the way."

 _One dead…_

* * *

The next time I woke up, I was empty and aching. I felt hollow and like there was nothing left in me, not even a soul. I was just a shell.

My body hurt, it hurt so much, and I could barely move.

Everything hurt. But worst of all, I thought I could feel a distant throb in my heart.

I fell back asleep, too tired and too empty.

* * *

Marmy burst into the hospital, panting for breath and looking wild and unkempt.

I nearly heaved a sigh of relief. Marmy had always been more of a father-figure than Hal had been—shit, it was too _weird_ to think of Hal like he was dead (but he was dead)—and if he was here, maybe things would be a little better.

"Is it true?" He cried, looking around at the beds frantically, "Is he—" He choked on the last word, and when he spotted me, he ran straight over.

"Vin!" He seized my shoulders, gripping me tightly. "Where's Hal? What happened? Are you okay? What—"

A tear rolled down my face and I gulped down a violent sob, trying not to start bawling right then and there.

It _hurt_. It fucking hurt, because Hal was dead and I had no father and _Hal was dead_.

And in a way, I'd gotten him killed because the monster had been looking for me and _he was dead_.

My breaths came in short, burning gasps and my throat ached with unshed tears.

Realization flooded Marmy's face and he let go of my shoulders, falling onto the ground in a boneless heap. He looked shocked and disbelieving. "Oh." He whispered, "Oh."

I buried my face in my knees and dug them into my cheekbones, relishing the bruising pain and biting back tears.

Hal was dead.

* * *

I stayed in the hospital for a few more days, recovering from my injuries.

Marmy hadn't shown up once after the initial visit.

The hospital discharged me, leaving me in the hands of child services.

Apparently, Hal had been an orphan, with no immediate family to speak of. The only person who had the ability to take me in was Marmy, and they contacted him during Hal's funeral.

Hundreds of people I had never seen before showed up at Hal's funeral.

I'd forgotten. He'd been a professor at a college and a well-respected researcher who'd won tons of prestigious prizes.

But I wanted to rage at them, to throw them out and scream at them.

What gave them the right to be here? They'd hardly known him, and I didn't want their empty condolences or meaningless words of sympathy.

I wanted them to get the fuck out and leave me alone to my grief.

I didn't wear black to the funeral, because Hal hated black and the only color he actually liked was green.

(A green that was the color of my eyes; Hecate's eyes.)

Burning, blinding hurt and anguish stabbed at me from all sides, but I hated myself most of all because I had never realized how much Hal had cared about me—loved me—or how much I cared about him until he was dead.

I thought I'd hated him, but I'd been so, so wrong. He'd been a shitty father, prone to long binges of research and writing and theorizing for weeks; leaving me to my own devices.

But he'd never forgotten about me. He'd always remembered to feed me when he forgot to feed himself; he'd talked to me and tried to teach me about his favorite subjects, he'd tucked me into bed every night, he'd shopped for girly clothes at the local mall when he hated leaving the house, he'd loved me more than anyone in the two lives I'd lived had.

He'd made mistakes, of course, but he was only human, and he had tried his best. And most of all, he had loved me.

And it hurt me all the more, carving away at my insides until I was nothing but a bleeding, raw little girl because _I hadn't realized any of this until he died_.

And I had never told him once that I loved him.

He'd been a shitty dad prone to neglect, but I loved him.

I loved him for the way he'd gently cleaned up my wounds every time I'd fallen, trying to get away from the monsters that weren't there, loved him for the way he smiled so sweetly it made me ache inside whenever he kissed me on the forehead and tucked me into bed, loved the way he always tried making lunch for us on the weekends but ended up burning everything instead, loved the way he'd cared about me and done what he could for me.

I'd had a father, and now he was dead.

It was too late now.

I was an orphan again.

I clutched the key in my pocket to Hal's house—our house—so tightly that the sharp edges dug into my skin, leaving indents that would later bruise.

When we all lined up to pay our last respects, I did not look into the casket.

I didn't want to see Hal—see him dead, unbreathing and unmoving. Face pale, eyes closed, the gentle calm that had radiated from him gone forever. It wasn't Hal.

After the funeral, I stood by myself under the shade of a thick oak tree, hiding from all the people who attended.

The sun was shining, and I bit my lip, because Hal was dead and nothing should be bright.

Standing under the tree, hidden from view, I watched the social workers pull Marmy aside, and I inched closer to eavesdrop.

Their mouths moved and I moved as close as I could, ignoring the shadow monsters that pulled at me, hissing words of nonsense in my ears.

"—I'm twenty eight, and I just got a new job that I can't afford to lose." Marmy sounded agitated, and he ran a hand through his hair, making it fall into a mess that was completely unlike him.

The woman in the black suit started to argue. "I know that, Mr. Defarge, but—"

He cut the social worker off. "I just—I _can't_." His voice was hoarse and haunted, his eyes a swirling typhoon of emotions that cut too deep.

The social worker observed him for a few seconds. "I see." She finally said coolly, "Thank you for your time, Mr. Defarge."

I stepped out of the shadows. "What's going on?"

Marmy jumped and he looked at me, his expression guilty. But his eyes were raw and filled with despair and a _pain_ that I couldn't describe.

I'd seen this look in his eyes once, a long, long time ago.

"Look." Marmy bit his lips, not too unlike how I had, "I can't adopt you. I'm sorry."

Hurt washed through me, roaring through my veins and ripping deeper at the wounds Hal had left behind. Marmy had helped _raise me_ , for fuck's sake, and now he didn't want me.

I didn't know what my face looked like right now, but Marmy hastily jumped in.

"Nononono, it's not that I don't want you, it's just—I'm young, I've just started a career, and I don't have the time to raise you. I can't. I barely get by with myself. And I—you—" He heaved a sigh so weary, so full of things I could never understand that I paused.

I chuckled at the irony of it, a hollow and bitter thing that echoed in my ears. All my life, I had thought of Marmion as more of a father figure. But really, Hal had been the only one in all my lives that had wanted me.

Besides, who wanted to raise a nutcase like me?

"No, it's fine. I get it." I told him tonelessly.

Marmion's eyes burned with regret and anguish, and I saw something deeper there. Something broken beyond repair, a pain that had been there for years, and then I understood.

Everything clicked into place, and it all made sense.

I had seen that look in his eyes before, and I'd seen it when I first met him.

" _Hey, Marmy," I said, as we walked back from the park, "when did you first meet Hal?"_

 _I was curious—Marmy and Hal had a friendship that seemed too strong to be defined by a word like that. And anyone who could keep up with Hal was already pretty amazing._

 _Marmy laughed lifting his head to face the sky and he smiled. It was tender and nostalgic, filled with the echoes of the past we all come to look affectionately upon. "It was in fifth grade. I'd just moved here, and I was lonely and angry at my mom for divorcing my dad and making us move to a different state. But Hal—he didn't avoid me, even though I got into fights all the time and was basically a hellion in class. He just came over with a bunch of thick books, plopped down in the seat next to me, and started telling me all about aliens and how they could exist. At the time, I had no idea what he was talking about—quantum physics was something I had never heard of before—but he brought me into that world, and I've been with him ever since."_

 _I tried to imagine Marmy as an angry delinquent and laughed, because he was way too different now for me to even think of him like that. "I can't imagine you as an angry kid."_

 _Marmy's look was faraway, lost in the galaxies of the universe and the shine of the stars. "That's because Hal changed me."_

And I knew. I didn't know how I didn't see it before, but I knew.

Marmion was in love with Hal.

I was a physical reminder that Hal had loved someone else, loved her enough to produce a child with her; a reminder that Hal could never love him the way that Marmion wanted.

Of course he didn't want me.

I laughed and laughed, my tears acidic and sourness curling in my stomach.

It was alright. After all, I was meant to be alone.

The social worker stepped forward uncertainly. "Honey, are you alright?"

I waved her off, still clutching my stomach, laughter bubbling through my lips. "I'm fine."

"I'm fine." I said, and calmed down. "I want to go home."

The social worker blinked at me uncomprehendingly.

"Home." I repeated, and gripped the key in my hand.

Her eyes widened with understanding, filling her eyes with sympathy. "Of course, of course. You can stay there for a bit but we'll have to take you to the orphanage later, okay?"

The orphanage. It was a lonely and bitter word, and I wanted to laugh again. Once an orphan, always an orphan.

The social worker took me home, and I ignored all of Marmion's attempts to speak to me.

I didn't want to forgive him. I didn't care that he loved Hal, that he had his own struggles. All I saw was his blatant selfishness, dangling in front of me like a piece of string that people teased cats with.

The social worker stayed in her car, letting me go into the house I lived in—not anymore, a voice whispered—and I turned the key in the keyhole, listening for the telltale click before pushing it open.

I stepped in, and I felt strange. Empty again, just like the house was. It seemed untouched, as if nothing had ever happened.

I was home.

Turning the corner, I stopped in front of Hal's office and placed my hand on the knob. He would be there, scribbling at his desk as if nothing had ever happened. I'd clear my throat, and after exactly ten seconds, he'd lift his head up and greet me, saying, "Hello, Schrödinger. How are you? I've just been working on a new paper." And then he'd descend into a mini lesson about the new theory he was working on, and I'd nod with boredom, outright not listening, though I actually understood a third of what he was talking about. And then he'd laugh and pull me into his lap and I'd try to scowl but I'd actually be smiling.

I opened the door, holding my breath, wishing, wanting, expecting.

His study was empty and dark, with the light turned off for once.

(He'd always leave it on, and we went through three lightbulbs a month.)

I felt like I was just punched in the stomach, and then it hurt all over again.

His chair was empty, so empty, devoid of the person that was supposed to be sitting there. That should have been writing. That should have looked up after exactly ten seconds and smiled when I called his name a few times, that should have _been there_.

My limbs shook, and my chest ached with loss, and I pulled myself into his chair, pretending that he was still there.

(He wasn't.)

I'd obsessed over the parts I hated about him, and had ignored the parts I loved about him.

I'd spent too long trying to hate him, trying to not have family, and ended up not seeing what I had in front of me instead.

His papers were untouched, and the fountain pen that I'd gotten him for his twenty-sixth birthday lay there, looking shiny and unused, because someone should have been holding it.

I huddled in his chair, the shadow monsters all looming around me, whispering into my ears, and cried.

* * *

 **A/N: I honestly didn't expect Hal to die, but it just happened. Vin has a shitty life, but Hal's death is important to the story—not only for character development, but also the way Vin's powers affect her and her relationship with Hecate.**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who favorited and followed! And thank you to iciclefangAJ, Goldspark1, and fireman12468 for reviewing!**

 **Thanks for reading and feel free to leave any comments you want. (Hal's death is important, I promise.)**


	9. nine

I'm not sure how long I sat huddled up in Hal's chair; my body felt heavy and broken, and I couldn't find the energy to move my arms in legs. My tears dried on my cheeks and my snot was smeared all over my shirt. Distantly, I thought I could hear Hal reprimanding my uncleanliness, but he was dead.

Once again, I was alone. I'd lost everything.

What else was there for me but bitter acceptance? Anger wouldn't help—I'd learned that long ago, when I'd still been a world-hating, self-absorbed orphan.

(Or maybe I still was like that. I couldn't tell.)

But the scary thing was, now that I knew what it felt like to have a family, being alone was a hundred times harder. Or, at least, I never wanted to experience the agony of losing someone again.

My fingers tightened into a fist and I gritted my teeth. _That's right._ I told myself sharply, _you're alone now. So deal with it._

I forced my arms and legs out of the chair, my muscles sending sharp pains throughout my body as I'd stayed in one position for too long. Taking a deep breath, I hauled myself onto my feet, swaying unsteadily for a second, and began to get my shit together.

The floorboards creaked with every few steps I took, and they echoed uncomfortably throughout the now empty house. It felt like there were ghosts following my every step; ghosts of what had been, the broken remains of gentle laughter and soft smiles. I didn't dare look behind me in case there were actually ghosts.

Slowly pushing the door to my room open, I inspected what was left of it. They'd cleared out a lot of the house once Hal had died, and my room was a skeleton of what it once was. I grabbed a backpack from my closet, fingers lingering over small familiarities, and shoved everything I'd need to live as a runaway from my room.

By the time I was done, my backpack was bulging and weighing down uncomfortably on my shoulders. My back would probably be screaming a few hours later.

I squared my shoulders. Now here was the hard part: I'd have to slip out of the neighborhood unnoticed. My control over the Mist was mediocre at best, but if I wanted to make myself invisible from onlookers, I'd have to see what I could do. A seven year alone on the streets wasn't exactly the most mundane sight.

The room was shadowed with the hues of the sunset, and I plopped down on the floor. The sky wasn't quite dark yet, but it was getting there. I squeezed my eyes shut and thought of shadows. Of whispers in the night and fear and loneliness and darkness and everything that shadows held. I wasn't just thinking _of_ shadows—I _was_ the shadows.

A wind—like the winds on a chilly, dry, autumn day when the sun's disappeared and everything's just cold, cold, cold— swept over me, burrowing into my bones, and I shivered roughly, instinctively hunching in on myself.

The feeling vanished as quickly as it came and I glanced down at my hands. They were still my hands. Small and chubby with tan skin. I frowned with confusion. Had it worked? I could've sworn it worked, judging by the weird experience I'd had just now.

Damn it all. I scowled and got to my feet, hefting the backpack up with me. Whether it worked or not, I wouldn't get caught.

And just like that, I slipped out of the house and into the crisp night air; just a seven year old girl and her black backpack.

The social worker's car was still parked in front of Hal's house (my house) and I crept past it, my heart nearly stopping as she suddenly glanced up from her watch. Her eyes went straight through me and I found it slightly unnerving but relieving as I walked past the car. I guess my manipulation of the Mist wasn't as bad as I thought.

I walked past the park where I'd hung out with Valya and Brownie almost every day and paused in my steps. Should I go and talk to Valya? Would she even be able to see me? I'd left rather abruptly the last time I'd seen her and to my surprise, I realized that it'd been a year ago. Did time really pass by that quickly? The park was still the same as the last time I'd seen it, and I hesitantly stepped onto the soft grass.

It was nighttime and the park was eerily empty. Lamplights cast yellow shadows over the park and a small squirrel scuttled to my right. The quiet was somehow peaceful in a vaguely unsettling way.

My feet took me to the old bench I'd always sat at, and I walked as if in a daze. Slowly, I sat down on the bench, and when I looked to my left, Brownie was right there, brown fur and all. He blinked at me curiously and moved closer, nudging my lap. My face broke into a huge smile and I took him into my arms, feeling my heart ache at something familiar.

I'd lost Hal, but I hadn't lost Brownie. And I'd probably never lose him, seeing as he was pretty much a figment of my imagination.

But still—it was better than nothing.

He whined comfortingly and I buried my face into his fur. For a moment, it felt like everything was going to be okay. Like Hal hadn't just died and Marmy hadn't abandoned me and I still had a family.

Blinking away more tears, I looked up, only to be met with Valya. She was unchanged, just like the park. Her bright blue eyes were tender as she smiled at me. "Hey, Vin."

I set Brownie down on my lap. "Hey, Valya."

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" She shuffled her feet awkwardly in front of me, looking like she was unsure of whether or not she could sit down. I nodded to the empty spot on my left and she sat down with a relaxed sigh. "What have you been up to for the past year? You never came back." There was a flash of hurt in her eyes and I swallowed guiltily.

"Stuck in an asylum with white walls for company." I answered dryly, adding a bit of sarcasm to alleviate the atmosphere.

Her eyes widened and she snorted. "Really?" I gave a helpless shrug and she gave me a sympathetic look before shaking her head angrily. "Sometimes I wonder why the gods let their children live this way. If we really are their children, then why does this happen?" Valya's voice was filled with sharp resentment, and not for the first time, I wondered how she'd ended up here.

Hearing her biting words reminded me of Hecate, and then I realized—Hecate had lied to me. That fucking goddess had _lied_ to me. And I was fucking _furious_. She'd told me that I had a choice, that I could choose to be with Hal or go to camp and Hal would be safe and he wouldn't die and things wouldn't end up this way and—

The sides of my shoulders suddenly burst with pain and I fell to the ground, letting out a cry. "Ow, shit!" Valya jumped to her feet with alarm. "What's wrong?" She paused and looked at me. "Oh my gods!" She screamed, "Your arms are on fire!"

"Yeah, I noticed." I hissed, trying to deal with the intense agony shooting through my arms. I could hardly move and the searing heat made my face feel like it was melting. The flames grew hotter and hotter until pain was my every sense and my vision faded out to black.

And then there was nothing.

I sat up, groaning, and realized that I wasn't in the park anymore. I was at the steps of a house I didn't recognize. It was a simple one story house: brown roof and white walls and small rectangular windows.

I had no idea what just happened and what I was doing here.

So I sat. Hopefully, this was some horrible side effect of my abilities and I'd return to reality sometime soon.

I sat on the steps, watching cars go by and people walk past and trees swaying in the wind and pebbles sit on the sidewalk and ants crawling through the cracks and—fuck! I couldn't stand this anymore. I angrily got to my feet and had an intense staring contest with the house. Why was I there? Was I supposed to go in? What the fuck was I supposed to do?

I lost the staring contest and shook my head. Screw it. I walked towards the door and turned the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't. The door opened easily and I stepped through the threshold, taking in the things around me.

Just like its outer appearance, it was simple on the inside. There was a brown leather couch in the living room and a really ugly television in front of it. The floorboard were old and creaky and the house looked like it hadn't been cleaned for ages.

At this point, I was just lost and confused and annoyed. Maybe someone in this house could help me. I opened a door next to the kitchen and nearly stepped on a little kid. Strangely enough (or maybe not that strange), he didn't even notice my presence and continued to roll around on the floor. Poor kid looked bored out of his mind.

He kept rolling until he slammed into a wall and I winced sympathetically at the loud thump. Immediately, he burst into tears and I awkwardly tried to bend down and pat his head in a way that would hopefully seem soothing, but my hand only passed through his body. I rolled my eyes. Where the fuck were his parents?

As if answering my question, a tall man stalked into the room. From the looks of it, he wasn't very happy. He grabbed the kid's arm roughly and hauled him to his feet. "Shut up!" He roared at the little boy, face a blotchy red. The kid immediately whimpered and tried to stop sobbing, but he kept blubbering. Obviously, the asshole man didn't like this, and got right into the kid's face. "I'm working. So you need to shut. the. fuck. up." He hissed.

Holy shit. This guy was a major douchebag and I wasn't going to stand for it. Impulsively, I brought my hand up in a fist, only to remember that I was one: some weird ghost bystander thing, and two: seven years old and short as fuck. Glaring, I shoved my middle finger at the guy just as I was sucked out of the world and into reality.

Blinking rapidly, I tried to adjust to the sudden change in setting and wobbled, disoriented.

"Vin!" Valya tried to seize my shoulders and I just stared, still trying to figure out what had just happened. "Are you okay? What happened? Your arms were on fire and then you suddenly fainted. And I dunno, you were just knocked out."

"Uh, yeah." I stuttered, finally clearing my head. "I was just at some house in San Francisco." The words were out of my mouth before I could even think about them and—what. Why did I have a random address in my head?

The past few hours had been the shittiest times of my life but now all I had was some abrupt, shady urge to go to the house I'd seen in my dream thing. It was the kind of feeling you had when you had to go to the bathroom or when you had to sneeze.

"Vin?" Valya waved her hands in front of my face. I ignored her and went to grab my bag and whistled at Brownie.

"Vin!" She called as I started walking towards the exit. "Where are you going?"

I stopped in my tracks and thought for a moment. "I guess I'm going to save some kid from an asshole dad." I had a few thousand dollars I'd taken from Hal's safe and I was pretty sure that was enough to hop on a train and get from Oregon to California.

Valya quickly moved in front of me. "But why?" Her face changed and settled onto a vaguely threatening expression. "Did your godly parent tell you to go on some kind of quest?"

"Not really? Actually, I have no idea. But I _do_ know that my arms won't stop randomly going on fire until I help this kid, and besides, no one deserves an asshole dad."

It was weird—it wasn't like I was doing something against my will, but it wasn't like I wanted to either. It was just something I had to do.

"Don't do it!" Valya clenched her fists. "It'll just destroy you." Looking rather taken aback, I looked at her. "Why?" She shook her head ambiguously. "I just will. Trust me."

I furrowed my eyebrows. It didn't feel like Hecate was compelling me to do something. I genuinely wanted to help the kid—I'd had my fair share of abusive environments, and to say the least, it sucked. Well, it definitely would be annoying to have a little kid along with me as I tried to get to Camp Half-Blood. He'd just slow me down. At the same time, it wasn't right to leave him there. I really did want to ignore the vision. But, I kinda wanted to help him. And Hecate was just going to keep setting me on fire until I did.

(The kid had the same eyes as me. I didn't know how I felt about that yet.)

I shrugged loosely. I was still angry at Hecate and everything that was going on in my life. (When I next saw her, I was going to beat the _shit_ outta her; if people could even do that to a goddess.) But YOLO—I mean YOLT—right? A kid as young as that shouldn't have to deal with this bullshit, especially if Hecate is going to try to mess with him too. "Bye." I told Valya, "I'll see you someday, I guess."

"Vin!" She cried with frustration, and reached out to me. But it was too late. I was already out of the park and walking to the nearest bus station with Brownie on my heels.

I was gonna get the kid out. And then, well, I'd figure that out after I'd helped the kid. It was the least I could do for a sibling.

* * *

 **A/N: For those who care, I used to be ofguttersandstars. For those who don't, well, ignore this, I guess.**

 **It's been a while since I've written so it this chapter probably isn't the greatest but I tried. (Valya is fishy af lmao)**

 **Well, it looks like there's going to be another child of Hecate introduced. I think the answer is fairly obvious but anyone have an idea as to who he is?**

 **The torches on Vin's arms are still unexplained-they're not everything Hecate said they were. And well, Hecate needs to give some explanation for her actions as well. She's pretty manipulative (then again, which gods/goddesses aren't?) and she isn't really suited to be a mother, even though she cares. (Also, I hope this doesn't seem too Mary-Sueish? The torches don't really do anything OTL)**

 **Thank you so, so much to everyone who favorited and followed! It means a lot to me. And extra thanks to Alena, dogsrulz77, Claed, PerfectionJune, SmartieQueen, Moka-girl, xFarxAwayx, Salsa Unicorn, Guest, JackInTheBox for reviewing!**

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 **Replies to guest reviews:**

 **Alena: Awww, thanks so much! I'm sorry that you cried (and kinda not sorry) but I'm just really glad that you liked it! I hope you have a great day too! :)**

 **Guest: Haha, was it really that obvious? Hm, well if Hal had survived, he most likely wouldn't have gotten together with Marmy. He's pretty oblivious to that stuff and frankly, Marmy would have just suffered in silence for the rest of their lives. It's really cool that you're lenient on that! :) Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **JackInTheBox: Man, that's the nicest thing someone's ever said to me. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!**


	10. t en

There was one important thing I'd forgotten—

When you're seven years old and trying to buy a train ticket for one to San Francisco, people tend to look at you suspiciously.

I heaved a sigh and mentally prepared myself for an onslaught of condescendingly sweet "Where are your parents?" from a bunch of strangers. Why hadn't any of the other half-blood kids had trouble with adults? Gods, these people were _annoying_.

What I needed was a good backstory. One that would make people leave me alone and not call Child Protective Services on me. So far, I'd only come up with "my mom is sick and dying and I need to visit her but my dad won't let me so I'm just taking the train by myself". It was a pretty flimsy excuse, but it was better than nothing. I'd probably get better at this as I travelled to Camp Half-Blood.

Probably.

An hour and a few concerned adults later, I was on a seventeen hour train ride to San Francisco. Thank the gods for Amtrak. I'd gotten a coach with two bunk beds. This meant that I was going to have to share with three other people, but luckily for me, not many people were really going from Oregon and California right now, so I had the whole place to myself.

I flung my insanely heavy backpack onto the bottom bunk and flopped down next to it, mimicking a starfish with my limbs.

Getting onto the train had been no walk in the park, but I had more problems from here on. How was I supposed to find the kid? And how the hell was I supposed to get him out unnoticed?

I rolled onto my side, desperately wishing that I had Google maps and that Hal had gotten me a smartphone before he—

My throat stung and I squeezed my eyes shut.

 _ **died?**_ A voice mockingly sang in my ear. The whisper was dry as bone and colder than frost.

Shivers ran down my spine and I knew what I was going to see before I opened my eyes.

Gaping, empty eye sockets and a violent mess of bright red and pitch black made up the garbled mess of the shadow in front of me. It looked me, right in the eyes, two inches away from my face. I swallowed, hard.

 _ **you're all alone now, a l o ne. don't pretend you're a hero. you're only saving that kid because you don't want to be alone. poor itty wittle vin is lonelyyyyyy y yy**_

" _Shut the fuck up!_ " I roared. And then I punched it.

I punched it because it was right, because I _was_ lonely and scared and I didn't know what to do now that Hal was gone and I hated _everything and everyone_.

The shadow flew away, cackling, until it disappeared from sight.

(But I could still feel its empty eye sockets, watching me, taunting me.)

I needed someone, something, anything. Desperately.

I squeezed my hands into fists and willed, prayed, begged; and then—there was a familiar bark and a tickle of soft fur against my face.

 _Brownie_. I sighed in relief and tugged him closer to me, wrapping my arms around him and trying to calm my thumping heartbeat.

The thing about Brownie was that he disappeared whenever my mind became too busy to focus on him and will him into being. And the train didn't allow pets anyway. So he'd disappeared a while before, leaving me as lonely as I'd been when Hal had just died.

 _Wait a minute._ I sat up, still clutching Brownie close to my chest. Running over my thoughts, I realized something—the reason why Brownie was tangible to others was because I'd willed his presence. But the shadows were a product of my unconscious; the emotions I buried deep and tried to erase. They fed on my fear, my anger, my sadness. They weren't like Brownie, who'd been created because I'd needed someone to love and someone to love me.

People always said that madness was a disease of the mind. At this point, I was starting to wonder if it was a disease of the heart, too.

I fell asleep like this, shadows edging around from every corner of the room and my arms firmly around the achingly warm body of Brownie.

(…a part of me would never forget that no matter how warm Brownie was, he wasn't alive. In the end, I was still alone.)

By the time I stepped off the train, Hal's wallet was four hundred dollars emptier. Of course, there was still a shitton of money in his wallet, and I was thankful yet again that he was rich as fuck. But I'd eventually run out of money; train tickets and taxi rides weren't exactly cheap. And not only that, but I'd need food and drink and a place to stay.

If I succeeded here, I'd have another mouth to feed as well.

I began to vaguely toy with the idea of using my abilities to create counterfeit money. Maybe I could even disguise myself with a different face every time. A different face at every store, at every hotel, every train—

I quickly cut my tangle of thoughts off. I was here for one thing: the kid. And I was going to have to get him first before I even began with anything else.

Shifting the backpack yet again on my sore shoulders, I hastened my step and called a taxi over. He gave me a strange look as I climbed into the taxi and his eyes narrowed when he saw Brownie.

"Sorry, no pets." His dark, bushy eyebrows were furrowed as he twisted his head back to look at the backseat.

Shit. I quickly made Brownie disappear and blinked at the taxi driver innocently. "What? What are you talking about?" I coated my voice with confusion and tilted my head to the side for good measure.

The taxi driver did a double take. "What the fu—I could've sworn—" He muttered, still staring at the empty spot where Brownie had been. I cleared my throat and his eyes shot towards me. I quickly recited the address before he could ask any further questions.

He turned around, still mumbling things under his breath. Occasionally, he glanced at the rearview mirror, still looking at the place where Brownie had been. I avoided any conversation or interaction by staring determinedly out the window.

Buildings and trees sped by, and I couldn't help but feel strangely empty as I stared at a completely unfamiliar city. San Francisco was beautiful, no doubt, but it wasn't _mine_.

I was never going back.

I was never going back to Oregon, where the house I'd once lived in was. Where I took my first steps, where I accidentally set Hal's hair on fire, where Hal had sat at his desk, writing algorithms that were too complicated for most people to understand; where I'd lived with a person I called my father and where I'd been happy, if only for a little while.

Tears formed in my eyes, but I couldn't cry. Everything just felt so hollow and fake, and I wondered if I'd feel like this for the rest of my life.

Slowly, the taxi came to a stop on one of San Francisco's countless hills. Carefully digging through my backpack and making sure to obscure the wallet from the taxi driver, I handed him the cash and stepped out the door.

Once the driver was out of sight, I quickly formed Brownie again. Brownie yipped excitedly at my heels and I stood before the house that I'd seen in my vision.

It was exactly the same as the one in my vision, but there was a sense of realness here that I couldn't describe. It just felt… _real_.

Taking a deep breath, I took a few steps forward until I was directly in front of the front door. Okay, so first things first. I'd have to get in undetected without the asshole dad noticing.

I lifted my palm and held it face up, staring intently at my empty hand. I traced over the simple image of a bobby pin in my mind, outlining the colors and dimensions until an actual bobby pin sat in my hand. Immediately, all the concentration melted away and I was left with a lethargic body and a tired mind.

Wearily, I sat down on the ground, my back against the door, and rested my head on my knees.

This was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Brownie nuzzled his head on my legs and I let a slow grin spread over my face, leaning over to pet him.

Finally, I got to my feet and faced the doorknob. Second mission: pick the lock and open the door as quietly as possible.

Thankfully, I'd learned lock picking in my previous life and this was pretty much a piece of cake. The lock was old and shitty and not a very good defense. With a soft click, the door unlocked and I slowly pushed the door open, praying for smooth hinges.

The door opened smoothly and I heaved a quiet sigh of relief before shoving the bobby pin in my pant pocket and walking over the threshold. Making sure to be as silent as possible, I shut the door behind me and used the balls of my feet to creep over to the room I'd seen without making a sound.

My sneakers were blissfully soundless over the wooden planks and I soon faced the closed door of the kid's room.

I had no idea how I'd convince him to come with me, but I was going to give it a shot.

My heart raced in my chest as I pushed the door open.

I was excepting a scream or some kind of movement of surprise, but to _my_ shock, the kid was standing there, looking all set to go.

He stared at me and I stared back. There was a small bag by his feet and his pockets were bulging with who knows what.

"…What the fuck." I stated eventually. What in the fuck was happening.

The kid's mouth curled up slightly. "You shouldn't curse."

Getting over my initial shock, I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. What's going on, kid? You going somewhere?"

"You mean you're taking me somewhere." He had a slightly smug look on his face and I squinted in confusion. Wasn't this kid like two or something? Why did he sound like a twelve year old?

"Aren't you like two?"

The kid actually looked offended at this. "I'm _three_." He held up three fingers as if to stress that he was, in fact, three years old.

At my uncomprehending look, he bent down and pulled out a really thick book from his bag. It looked similar to the one Hecate had given me that was currently sitting in my backpack. He pointed to it. "Mom's visited me before. I think she helped simu—stimu-stimulate my mental development or something. She said it's cuz my magic developed too quickly for me and she didn't want me to end up like _you_. Children of Hecate mature quicker than other half bloods anyway. Our magic grows with us."

Jesus fuck. This kid was kind of an asshole. And Hecate was really an asshole. She'd visited this fucking kid earlier than she'd visited me, _and_ , she'd given him a shittload of important information. Unlike me. "What's wrong with _me_?" I said sourly.

(Honestly, _fuck_ Hecate.)

The kid shrugged innocently, but there was a knowing gleam in his eyes.

"Fuck you." I muttered, before grabbing his bag. "If Hecate visited you, that means you know I'm here to take you to—"

"—Camp Half Blood. I know." The kid interrupted me and finished my sentence. "And don't worry about that man. I switched his meds with some of the sleeping pills we had in storage and he's knocked out right now."

I raised an eyebrow. "That man meaning your father?"

The kid nodded stiffly but quickly added, "He's not my father."

"Whatever you say, kid." I hefted up his bag. "Let's go."

Small footsteps sounded behind me as he scrambled to catch up with me. "My name's not kid, it's Alabaster."

I slanted down my gaze at him and used what little power my height had (it was nice to be taller than someone for once). "Whatever, wall plaster."

I let out a snort as I heard sputtering behind me as the kid struggled to find something to say. Finally, he howled, "It's Alabaster!" as we walked out the door.

Brownie was waiting obediently outside for me and I pointedly ignored the kid as I bent down to scratch Brownie's ears.

Alabaster stared at Brownie as we walked down the streets. "Is that your dog? It doesn't really seem like a dog."

" _His_ name is Brownie." After that, I stopped answering his questions even though he was right by my side, continuously pestering me.

This kid talked _a lot_. But for some reason, I felt a bit lighter than I had before.

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 **A/N: So this mental development thing is just a theory I made up. And I also read on the PJO wiki that Alabaster is Hecate's most talented child, so this is what I wrote as a result. He's like three but mentally, he's probably around ten or eleven. Honestly, at this point, this is pretty unrealistic, but I'm just gonna roll with it because how** _ **did**_ **the other half bloods survive anyway? Luke was like nine when he was alone on the streets… and it took him seven years to get to Camp. Also, I hope this clears up Vin's age in relevance to the PJO timeline-Alabaster is the same age as Percy so Vin's only four years older than them.**

 **Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed this! Special thanks to Enbi, Not-Gonna-Update, JackInTheBox, FallenAngel10086, Anime Fan x9000, Bob, warpterror, fghjkjhgfdfghjhgf, xfarxawayx, KafeiDetour, Queen of Narnia49, and nightheart777 for reviewing!**

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 **Replies to guest reviews:**

 **JackInTheBox: Hahaha, yeah, poor Valya! But she isn't really what she seems to be. And THANK YOU, you're really too kind. ;-;**

 **Anime Fan x9000: Thank you!**

 **Bob: Thanks so much for leaving a review on each chapter ;-; I hope you liked this! And I hope this chapter answered some of your questions. Also, whoops, I totally forgot about Greek gods not being homophobic OTL. In my opinion, there's not limit to the Mist—it's just something that creates illusions. And sorry, I didn't understand your questions about getting adopted to Camp Half Blood. What do you mean?**


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